How to Be a Superstar
by singingcagedbird
Summary: Erin Harris is no ordinary female wrestler. She refuses to become a Diva, takes on the best of the WWE, and never backs down. She's got the fight in her, but she's learning every day...just how to be a superstar. Wrestling-centric with some romance.
1. Make an Entrance

**WWE Monday Night Raw **

Randy Orton had never been one to mince words or stop short of insulting his colleagues.

In fact, out in the ring tonight, he had managed to insult Mr. McMahon, John Cena, and the Legacy pair of Ted Dibiase and Cody Rhodes in the same breath. This, of course, drove Mr. McMahon to march down to the ring himself, infuriated.

"Randy, I'd be more than happy to shut you up myself," he began. "But I think there's someone else who'd like to have a shot at you first." Randy looked to the ramp, expecting Cena to be the next person he saw. But the strains of Linkin Park's "Bleed It Out" filled the stadium suddenly, and all eyes turned to the shadowed figure on the ramp. The spotlight turned as well, catching on the slender figure of a girl who could not have been taller than 5'3" and who looked to be perhaps 125 pounds soaking wet. But she wore a motorcycle jacket like she was born to ride, and carried herself with military precision and an air of confidence. She saluted Mr. McMahon before beginning her trip down the ramp, tucking back several chocolate-brown waves that had escaped her braid as she ducked into the ring.

"What the _hell_," Randy Orton snarled, "is she doing here?"

She ignored him, shaking Mr. McMahon's hand as he offered it and waving merrily to the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, meet Raw's newest acquisition," Mr. McMahon announced.

"My name is Erin Harris," she said clearly. "Private First Class Erin Harris, of the United States Marines."

"And would you like to tell the fanbase of WWE why you're here, Private Harris?" Mr. McMahon asked, playing to the audience's cries. Randy Orton glared at her, veritably radiating hate. Erin smiled sweetly, looking only at the crowd.

"I'm the reason Randy Orton was dishonorably discharged from the United States Marines," Erin began. "I'm the reason he spent 38 days in military prison after being court-martialed."

"I think I hear a good story here, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. McMahon continued, clapping Erin on the shoulder. "What do you think—would you like to hear it?" The stadium roared a resounding yes, and Erin smiled, taking a seat on the top corner ropes. Randy began to pace angrily, but she didn't spare him a single glance.

"Our story begins in 1999, the year I graduated Southside High School in Elmira, New York, two years behind my good friend Beth Phoenix—you might know her?" she joked, playing it up for the crowd. She laughed softly, going on. "I enlisted for a six-year term in the Marines the day I graduated, and shipped off to Camp Pendleton for basic training—the same base that Private Randy Orton was already infamous on for having gone AWOL for 82 days. He was known as the bad boy on base, but I only knew him as the nice guy in my squad who helped me get my bearings, who held my hair back when I threw up after the first distance run, and made sure I didn't get picked on by my other squadmates. He was my first friend at Camp Pendleton, and he became one of my best friends in entire Marine Corps."

Randy sneered at her, but she still didn't look at him. Instead, she swung herself off of the ropes, beginning to pace the ring herself.

"The thing was," Erin continued, shaking her head. "The thing was, Randy wasn't infamous just for going AWOL. He was also infamous for having slept with almost every woman on base. So some of his friends from another squad made him a bet. They wagered him one month's pay that they could pick one woman on base that he couldn't sleep with. Randy took the bet, and they picked his best friend on base." She stopped pacing, standing in front of Randy and looking at him for the first time, forcing him to look at her. "They picked me."

Randy towered over her, and she stared right back at him. She didn't back down from his glower, and he finally turned away.

"Randy was my best friend on base," Erin went on. "So when he tried to kiss me, I let him. When he held my hand under the mess hall tables, I let him. When he gave me backrubs, I let him. But when he tried to get into my pants, I told Randy Orton the one thing no woman had ever told him." She stared straight at Randy Orton once more, daring him to remember. "I told him no."

The stadium erupted in cheers, and Erin smiled slightly, shaking her head.

"I told him no, and he broke my arm," she said flatly. "I told the base doctor that I fell out of my bunk and landed wrong, and that was how I broke my arm. He was my best friend, after all. Military life is hard. Everybody breaks at some point—that's what training is supposed to do to you. So I wrote it off as stress. Randy lost his bet, and I spent six weeks doing every bit of basic training I could with a cast on my arm. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything, and I thought it was settled."

Erin began to pace once more, twirling the end of her braid idly.

"My first day back, I was paired with Randy for hand-to-hand combat practice," she continued. "And I was happy, to be honest. I knew that he'd push me, because we worked to make each other better. And he pushed me, alright. He pushed me so hard our commanding officer had to order him to stop trying to kill me. He didn't. It took three military policemen to pull him off of me, and they had to rush me into surgery before I could even look at him. My arm was broken again, and they had to put steel pins in it. My jaw was broken, I had a dislocated elbow, and I had massive internal bleeding. Randy Orton spent 38 days in military prison. I spent three days in the hospital and two months doing rehab before finally finishing my basic training and shipping out to Fallujah. I served my term and came back stateside, got a degree in computer science and came here. But I never forgot why I set off metal detectors every time I go through. I never forgot why my jaw aches every time it rains. And there's no way in hell I ever forgot who did it to me."

Erin finally stopped pacing, standing at the center of the ring. She lowered the microphone, watching Randy once more.

"And I'll ask you again," Randy growled. "Why the hell are you here?"

"I came to tell you just one thing, Randy," Erin replied, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. "I've been shot at. I've been bombed. I survived IEDs and firefights, I survived being a prisoner of war, I survived a damn war, Randy. And after all that, you're just a man. I'm not scared of you, Randy. And I'm here to tell you that it's time for payback. I'm taking you down." The entire stadium fell silent in time to hear something no one had ever heard.

Randy Orton laughed.

"Now I understand that you don't respect me one bit," he said, turning to Mr. McMahon and ignoring Erin. "But do you really want me to cripple a Diva for life?"

"Private Harris isn't a Diva," Mr. McMahon replied. "In fact, we made a deal. If she beats you tonight, she joins the Raw circuit and fights as one of the guys. If she loses, I sign her as a Diva and she does whatever I tell her to instead."

"Good thing you've got practice taking orders," Randy said menacingly, turning to Erin. "Get ready to take some more." Erin laughed, flipping Randy off before leaving the ring without another word. The crowd roared its approval, and Erin had to smile as she left.

A/N: So this is my first-ever WWE story! I promise to actually include wrestling (*gasp*) in it too. All character names belong to the WWE of course, except for Erin. She's mine. And everyone is written in-character (I'm using the on-screen personalities, basically). The action will get much better than this; this is just laying the groundwork.

I should note that I started writing this story in January of 2010, and a lot of it was completed by May—so a lot of characters have outdated gimmicks, and I won't reference every event that occurs in the WWE (some of them I'll work in; others I'll ignore). But I hope you enjoy, so read and review, please!


	2. Learn to Be Patient

Backstage, Erin fingerstyled idly, leaning back against the sofa cushions. There was a knock at the door, and she paused.

"Come in!" she called, setting it down. A familiar blond head peered around the doorway, and her face lit up. "Cinderella!"

"I haven't been called that in years, Snow White," Beth Phoenix laughed, coming over to hug her. "Actually, I'm pretty sure you're the only one who's ever called me that." Erin grinned, patting the couch next to her. "So are you our newest Diva?"

"Actually, I'm fighting Randy Orton tonight," Erin replied. "I want to fight in Raw, but not as a Diva." Beth stared at her, stunned, and Erin shrugged. "I've spent my entire life since high school fighting guys, Beth. Even after the Marines, I taught self-defense at Penn State."

"If you're sure," Beth said reluctantly.

"I am," Erin replied firmly. "Now, come on. Tell me everything that's happened since I left." Beth shook her head, taking the seat next to her.

"So you know I came to the WWE right after high school, right?" Beth said.

"We used to watch Raw when we could get it in Fallujah," Erin replied, nodding. "I saw you wrestle, once or twice. The boys on my squad all want to meet you, by the way." Beth smiled, blushing slightly.

"You're not the only one with pins in your bones, either," Beth added, indicating her jaw. "I had a few surgeries after I broke this. But it's been going better since then."

"Any boys in your life?" Erin asked, only half-teasing.

"Maybe—might be," Beth replied, her blush deepening. "I've gone on a couple of dates with Ted DiBiase, and he's really sweet." Erin smiled, hugging her friend impulsively. "How about you?"

"The boys in my squad are too much like brothers," Erin replied, shaking her head. "And I was too busy getting my degree to worry about boys at Penn State."

"We'll have to fix that," Beth informed her. "I should really get going—I have a match against Jillian, and I should really go get ready. Want to grab dinner after?"

"Sounds good to me," Erin replied.

"I'm glad you're back, Snow White," Beth said, hugging her one last time. "I missed my little sister."

"I missed you too," Erin replied, smiling. "Go kick her ass, alright?" Beth laughed, closing the door behind her. Erin picked up her guitar and continued to play, picking out the chords of Santana's "Primavera." There was another knock at the door, and she sighed. She managed to open the door with her free hand, holding the guitar neck in the other.

"Can I help you?" she asked, glancing up.

"Hi," the man at the door said, smiling cheerfully. "I just wanted to make sure you were settling in alright." He offered his hand quickly. "I'm John Cena."

"Erin Harris," she replied, fumbling to get a hand free. Instead, she dropped the guitar, tripped over her feet as she reached for it, and landed in a tangled heap of arms and legs. John caught the guitar one-handed, hiding a smile. She blew her hair out of her face, exasperated, looking up at him. "In my defense, I'm not usually this clumsy."

"I won't hold it against you," John promised, chuckling. "I take it you play guitar?" He offered her a hand up, which she gladly accepted before taking her guitar back.

"I messed around with it in high school, but once my squad found out I played, they made me play all the time," she admitted. "Now it's just habit to pick it up whenever I'm bored."

"If you take requests, you should come and play for the guys in the greenroom sometime," John suggested.

"I don't know where that is," Erin confessed. "I got lost just getting to the ring, honestly." She shrugged, embarrassed, and John laughed.

"I've got a match coming up, but if you want, I could give you a tour later," he offered. Erin smiled up at him.

"I'd like that," she said. "I think I've got the match after you, but maybe after that?"

"Sounds good to me," John replied. "Hey—Randy's hypermobile in most of his joints, and he's had a lot of injuries to his left shoulder."

"I'll keep it in mind," Erin smiled. "Thanks."

"Want to come down to the greenroom?" John offered. "A bunch of us hang around down there while we're waiting. The music would be a welcome distraction."

"Sure," Erin agreed, hefting her guitar. "Lead the way, because I have no idea where I'm going." John chuckled, and Erin smiled in response.

"I heard your speech out there," he said conversationally. "You were a Marine?"

"Once a Marine, always a Marine," Erin replied, shrugging. "I enlisted right out of high school. My parents weren't too fond of that."

"So you and Randy have a history?" he tried.

"You could say that," Erin replied, with a reluctant half-smile. "I owe him a few bruises."

"You're not the only one," John said wryly. "You have no idea how many people would love to see you beat him down."

"I'm at the top of that list," Erin informed him, following him through the door.

"Boys, we got fresh meat," the Miz called, and Erin raised her eyebrows.

"Be nice," Evan Bourne scolded. "She's taking on Randy, and she says she can take him down. She's got more balls than half this room."

"You just like her because you're not the fresh meat anymore," Kofi Kingston called, and they all laughed.

"You play?" Evan asked, indicating her guitar.

"She even takes requests," John boasted, and Erin smiled. "You've probably heard, but this is Erin Harris."

"Nice to meet you all," Erin said politely. "You want to hear anything in particular? I'm glad to keep playing—it helps distract me."

"What kind of music do you play?" Kofi asked.

"I'm a classic rock fan, but I love country and most alternative groups," Erin replied. "I'll play anything, though."

"Wait—you play country, right?" Evan asked.

"Sure," Erin replied, taking the seat he offered. "What do you want to hear?"

"Can you play dueling banjos?" he asked, grinning sheepishly. Erin laughed, fingering the well-known opening notes. Her fingers flew over the strings, faster and faster as the song went on.

"That is seriously impressive," John commented as she finished, and Erin blushed.

"I would have gone crazy in Fallujah without music," she replied, slightly embarrassed. "It's just—it's what I do to calm down, so I had to learn at some point, I guess."

"Well, you're good at it," Mark Henry remarked. "Play something else. Do you sing, too?"

"I don't think I'm that good, but yes," Erin replied, laughing nervously.

"How about Tom Petty?" he asked. "Do you know 'Free Fallin'?"

"Of course!" Erin smiled. "I love Tom Petty. He's one of my favorites." She strummed a chord, frowned, and adjusted her hand position, switching keys. She nodded, satisfied, as she played the opening chords once more. Her voice was sweet and low, a surprising contrast to her match-ready appearance. There was a soft, delicate quality to her voice, and she closed her eyes as she sang, the notes slipping out from beneath her fingers as she played. When she opened her eyes, smiling nervously, the room was still silent.

"I feel like I'm taming the wild beasts," she tried.

"You have a beautiful voice," Shawn Michaels told her, leaning against the doorframe. Hunter stood behind him, nodding in agreement.

"Thank you," Erin smiled, surprised. "I'm just glad to be here, and if playing music helps everyone else out, why not?"

"Ready for Randy Orton?" Hunter asked.

"I've been ready for years," Erin replied determinedly, without a moment's hesitation. "I don't expect it to be easy, but I need to do this."

"No offense, but I can't really see you as a Diva," Kofi commented. Erin shrugged.

"None taken," she replied breezily. "I can't really see myself as one either. I have to win this."

"Did John tell you about his shoulders?" Hunter asked. Erin nodded, smiling.

"Thanks for the tip, though," she replied. "I'm definitely still getting my bearings around here."

"We all usually go out together after the matches," Evan informed her. "Party, have a good time, all that. The Divas have their own training schedule, but we usually lift in the early afternoon and do technique training after. You have anything in particular that you do for training?"

"I practice kajukenbo, which is a pretty good workout on its own, but I've been lifting since I got back stateside," she replied. "And I do some dance workouts to keep quick feet."

"What's kajukenbo?" Shawn asked, taking a seat.

"It's a mixed martial art," Erin explained. "It's some boxing and judo, mixed with jujitsu, kenpo karate, kung fu, and Tang Soo Do. It's where I get my high-flying, acrobatic stuff from."

"Sounds like fun," Evan remarked. Erin nodded, agreeing.

"I like it because it makes size irrelevant," she grinned. "Seeing as that's something I don't have a lot of. It was really helpful going into the Marines with a background in martial arts, and I'm hoping it might help here, too."

"Evan's the one to talk to if you want to do aerial attacks," John commented. "Rey Mysterio, too. Doing it off the ropes takes some getting used to."

"I'll keep it in mind," Erin replied. "Thanks, guys. You've really made me feel welcome."

"Well, we were all green once," Shawn reminded her. "Some of us longer ago than others, but as much as new members have to pay their dues, we figure you're paying them with a first match against Randy Orton. Hell, if you beat him, we won't even haze you." Erin grinned wryly in thanks.

"You know, we really don't know anything about you other than you have a beef with Randy Orton and you used to be a Marine," Kofi mused. "Lame as it sounds, how about Truth or Dare?"

"Mind if we wait until after the matches?" Erin asked apologetically. "I'd love to get to know everybody, but I want to start taping up for my match and really getting ready for that."

"Of course!" John replied. "Besides, I should really go tape up too."

"Who are you facing?" Evan called.

"Miz," John answered. "Come on, I'll show you where the training room is. They should have tape back there."

"You can leave your guitar here," Mark offered. "We'll take care of it."

"Thanks," Erin called over her shoulder, following John as he led her out. "Good luck to all of you tonight!" Calls of good luck wishes followed her out the door, and she waved, smiling.

"They're a good bunch of guys, aren't they?" John asked her. Erin nodded.

"You guys seem close," she commented. "Reminds me a lot of my squad."

"We spend most of our time together," John admitted. "It really comes as no surprise that we'd be as close as we are." Changing the topic abruptly, he added, "So what do you like to do for taping?"

"Knuckles to mid-forearm," Erin replied. "I'm a girl. Since my bones are smaller, my wrists are more likely to fracture. You?"

"Just knuckles, usually," he replied. "Please tell me you don't do the whole color-coordinated tape like some of the Divas do."

"Nope," Erin assured him, shaking her head. "I use black."

"Any particular reason?" John asked.

"Partly for my company—my squad, miraculously, didn't lose a single man in Fallujah, but my company did lose men, so I like reminding myself of what I fight for," Erin replied. "For another, blood is a lot less likely to show up against black."

"Practical and meaningful," John observed, nodding. "I like it." Erin grinned, accepting a roll of tape as they entered the training room.

"Need any help taping?" she offered.

"I can usually get my left hand, but I might need some help with my right," John admitted. "Do you mind?"

"John, I have younger sisters and I've been in a war," she replied dryly. "I've changed diapers, cleaned up vomit, and done field dressings. If I don't mind doing that, do you really think I'd mind helping you get taped?"

"Good point," John agreed. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Erin replied, tearing a strip of tape with her teeth. "Here you go. Give me your hand." She layered several strips over his knuckles before binding him with one that wrapped around his palm, holding the tape in place. "Can you help me with mine? I really can't tape up on my own. Not nearly enough coordination."

"No problem," John chuckled, wrapping her from knuckles to mid-forearm with practiced efficiency. "You ready for your match?"

"Never readier," Erin said grimly, flexing her wrists and fingers experimentally. "Good luck in your match."

"And you in yours," John replied, nodding to her before leaving. Erin took a deep breath, putting her headphones in once more as she began the longest wait of her life.

* * *

A/N: So here's chapter two! Yes, I put another chapter in before the actual match, but I swear I'm not doing it just to be evil and make you wait. And to be really, really nice, I'll throw in a companion piece one-shot to tide you over until next Saturday. How's that? The epic Randy vs. His Past match will be in the next chapter, I promise. Read and review, please!


	3. Give It Everything You've Got

Erin entered the stadium to the loudest cheers she'd ever heard, pausing at the top of the ramp to salute the crowd, her face stony. She took her off her cap, ready to toss it into the crowd, but paused. A small girl just beyond the barrier was trying to fend off the two boys behind her who could only be her brothers, tugging on her pigtails and teasing her. She made her way over, squatting until she was on an even level with them.

"Don't let them push you around, okay?" she told the girl. The little girl nodded tearfully, and Erin smiled at her, settling her cap on her head before turning to the boys. "And if I see you two picking on my girl again, you're going to have me to answer to." The boys stared up at her, scared, and Erin grinned. She turned back to the ring, staring squarely at Randy even as she ducked under the ropes and into the ring. Off came her t-shirt, exposing the fitted white sports bra she wore with the camouflage cargo pants and her combat boots. Now uncovered, a fire-breathing green dragon wrapped up from the back of her right hip to her upper right ribcage, and a Semper Fi tattoo marked the inside of her right forearm. Randy stared at the tattoos, a sneer creasing his face. She leapt onto the corner ropes, saluting the crowds once more. The bell rang suddenly as she stood on the top ropes, and Randy charged at her. Without blinking, Erin sprang off the ropes, tucking into a ball before uncoiling and landing squarely, seated, on Randy's shoulders. She got in several good punches before he dropped, and she rolled off, turning back to face him once more, beckoning mockingly.

Randy growled, coming at her once more. Erin simply dropped, sweeping her leg around to clear his legs out from under him. He landed hard, and she dove on top of him, seizing the opportunity to try for a pin. He kicked out easily at two, and she rolled away. This time, Randy rose more slowly, coming at her more cautiously. He feinted left, and she stepped in. He caught her around her waist, raising her up and throwing her into the mat. Erin struggled to rise, reaching frantically for the ropes. Instead, Randy caught her in a headlock, trying to pull her into an RKO. Erin pushed off as hard as she could, tucking her chin to her chest as she did so. Caught off guard, Randy fell backwards, and she rolled, gasping as his forearm crushed her throat. Still holding her throat, she crawled away, hauling herself to her feet on the ropes.

Randy finally rose, charging at her with an animalistic roar. She swung out and over the top rope, using her momentum to pull herself back in and drive her legs into his chest. She cushioned her landing with her arms, pushing herself upright once more. As she came at him once more, he caught her by the waist and threw her down, harder than before. Erin arched her back away from the floor as it impacted, biting back a scream. Randy pulled back her leg for the pin, levering his weight down on her. She rolled onto her stomach, but he stayed on top of her.

"I'm glad I got out of the Marines," he hissed, his breath hot on her ear. "They're as pathetic as you are."

Erin's eyes narrowed, and she pressed hard against the floor, pushing up with a shout that echoed over the stadium. She drove her elbow into Randy's stomach, sending him to the mat. He lay prone on the mat, and she rolled him onto his back. With a tight smile, she positioned herself next to his shoulder, checking her position over her shoulder before executing a picture-perfect moonsault, quickly pulling his leg in for the pin. He only just kicked out, and Erin rolled away, circling cautiously.

Randy charged impatiently, and Erin dropped easily into a split, allowing his wild swing to miss. She rose, spinning, as he came back, grabbing his arm to send him into the ropes. Instead, he reversed the move on her, sending her across the ring to bounce off the ropes. He caught her as she flew back, hauling her over his shoulders and throwing her to the mats. Erin's head bounced off the ground at the force of the impact, and she lay half-stunned against the mats. He kicked her viciously, driving calculated blows into her ribs, knees, and neck. Kneeling next to her, he rested his weight on his fists, watching her with sinister attention. Erin rolled over, shielding her head instinctively as she curled her body in, pushing herself to her feet. Randy charged at her again and she ducked, hauling him into a fireman's carry and performing a picture-perfect Samoan drop. Randy writhed in pain, clutching his spine, and Erin grabbed the ropes and corner pole to haul herself up, climbing to the top rope.

She balanced herself carefully, raising her arms high. The crowd gasped as she took off, pulling her arms in tightly and rotating quickly even as she floated through the air, her body extended gracefully, performing three full twists in layout position. Erin landed heavily on Randy's chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Leaning her weight into his neck and shoulders, she gritted her teeth, pushing down with all her strength. This time, Randy couldn't kick out, and Erin jumped high enough to clear the top rope with her feet as she celebrated. The referee took her hand, raising it high. She pulled away, bending down over Randy's still-prone form.

"Never," she whispered, "insult the United States Marine Corps in front of me." She turned away for a moment, then turned back. "Semper fi, Randy." Erin jumped onto the ropes once more, saluting the crowd one last time. Before she could duck under the ropes and leave, Beth bounded into the ring, raising her hand high. Erin laughed, wincing as the action caused her throat to burn.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do not believe this—rookie Erin Harris has defeated Randy Orton in her first match with the WWE!" Jerry called. "Raw has a new superstar!"

"Let's get you something for your throat," Beth said quickly, but Erin shook her head stubbornly. She jumped onto the top ropes, saluting the crowd before raising both hands high. Stepping down from the ropes carefully, she turned back to Randy, crouching over him once more.

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" she said, loud enough for the audience to hear.

"Go suck it," he gasped, trying to get the air back in his lungs.

"Oh, I would," Erin said sweetly. "I really would, but my mother taught me not to put small objects in my mouth."

She and Beth slid out of the ring to thunderous applause, and Erin saluted once last time before ducking backstage.

"I can't believe you did it!" Beth squealed, hugging her tightly. "I mean, of course you did it, but I still can't believe you did it!" Erin laughed, returning the hug.

"I'm just glad to have the job," she replied, grinning. Her grin became a crooked one as she winked mischievously. "Although the payback was nice too."

"You should head back to the locker room and get dressed. We're going out for a good time tonight, girl," Beth informed her. "And here's your aspirin. How many do you need?"

"Six," Erin replied. Beth looked at her skeptically. "I built up an immunity, Beth." Beth shrugged, handing them over. Without a moment's hesitation, Erin dry-swallowed them, following Beth to the locker room and changing quickly into a t-shirt and jeans.

"Alright," Erin replied, still grinning. "I'll see you in a bit, Beth." She ducked into the greenroom, knowing she needed to find her guitar.

"Congratulations!" the guys called, practically deafening her as she walked in. Erin's smile broadened, and she shook her head.

"Can we get you a drink?" Evan called, indicating the bar in the corner.

"Is there grenadine?" Erin asked, and Evan nodded. "I'll have a Shirley Temple—my stomach's all in knots right now." Evan shrugged, pulling out the grenadine and sprite.

"How did it feel?" Mark asked. Erin's grin nearly split her face.

"It felt fantastic," she admitted, accepting her Shirley Temple from Evan. "Thanks."

"Let's make a toast to the newest face on Raw," John proposed. Erin blushed, raising her Shirley Temple as the others raised their beers. "Congratulations on your first win!"

"Thanks, guys," Erin replied, still blushing. "I really do feel fantastic right now. Although that might be the six aspirin I've got in me, come to think of it."

"I wish I could say your body gets used to it, but it doesn't," Shawn told her. Erin shrugged.

"I spent six years getting beat up for a living," she replied dryly. "At least I get to take baths now. Makes it a thousand times easier. Three minute cold showers aren't exactly great for your muscles."

"That sounds hellish," Kofi replied. Erin chuckled.

"It was," she agreed. "You still want to play Truth or Dare?"

"Only if you're the first one to go," Kofi informed her. "You still game?"

"Bring it on," Erin dared, teasing.

"I got nothing, actually," Kofi admitted. "Somebody else want to ask her?"

"Okay, Erin, truth or dare?" John called.

"I'm on an adrenaline high still, so I'll risk a dare," she replied bravely. "Give me your worst."

"Alright, I dare you to give me a backrub, because I desperately need one," John replied. Erin laughed, uncrossing her legs and taking a seat behind him. "And it's your turn to go."

"Evan, truth or dare?" she called, beginning to work on John's back. "John, your back is beyond tight." John chuckled, shrugging slightly.

"Dare," Evan replied confidently.

"I dare you to carry the player opposite you around the room once," Erin replied. "And you have to do it in a fireman's carry."

"That'd be me," Mark said, standing up. Evan raised his eyebrows, shrugging, and rose with a groan. With a grunt of effort, he hauled Mark up and over his head, making his way slowly around the room.

"I'm stronger than I look," he boasted in response to their surprised looks, flexing his biceps. Erin smothered a giggle, turning it hastily into a cough. "Kofi, truth or dare?"

"Truth," Kofi replied.

"If you could get with any one Diva, which one would it be?" Evan asked.

"One night stand, or actual relationship?" Kofi asked.

"One night stand," Evan replied.

"Alicia Fox," Kofi said quickly. "She's hot, but way too high-maintenance." The guys nodded, agreeing, and Kofi pointed to Hunter.

"Truth or dare?" he asked.

"Dare," he replied, sipping his beer. "Since my wife will kill me if I have to answer a question like that."

"Make up a limerick about Shawn," Kofi decided. "And it better be funny."

"I hate poetry," Hunter grumbled. "Fine. I know wrestler named Shawn, who is greatly renowned for his brawn. Though he often distresses, and occasionally obsesses, I wouldn't want him to be gone." Shawn half-grinned, punching his partner amiably.

"Erin, I'm throwing it back to you. Truth or dare?" Hunter asked.

"I'll change it up this time," Erin replied. "Truth."

"Who was your first?" Hunter asked. In response to her affronted look, he added, "It's a guy thing. We all brag about it." John noted a strange expression in her eyes before she answered.

"You may want to do a different question," Erin suggested. "I don't really have a first." She shrugged in response to their surprised expressions. "I'm a good Catholic girl. Most of the time. John, I have to stop, because you've got more knots than a six-year-old's shoelaces and my hands are cramping."

"That feels fantastic," John said, rolling his neck experimentally. "Thanks."

"You owe me one," she informed him sternly, though she grinned. "So do I have to answer a different question, since I didn't really have a story for the last one?"

"Nah, go around the room and say something you admire about each person here. We could always use an ego boost," Hunter ordered.

"Me first!" Kofi called, and Erin smiled.

"You're completely fearless in the ring," she told him. "I mean, that's not always a good thing, but it's pretty awesome anyway."

"Thank you," Kofi replied, and Erin nodded.

"My turn," Mark said, smiling cheerfully.

"I know everybody knows you're the world's strongest man, but I really admire you for choosing your friends over Mr. McMahon's orders," Erin replied. "With the whole Cena-gauntlet incident, I mean."

"Hey, bros before dough, right?" Mark shrugged. "How about the DX guys?" Erin turned to them, tapping her chin pensively.

"Shawn, I've never seen you back down from a fight, and God knows you take on the giants," she told him.

"And me?" Hunter asked.

"Thank you for finally calling out CM Punk on the straight-edge-means-I'm-better-than-you crap," Erin said, grinning. "Somebody needed to put him in his place."

"Last one!" John called, pointing to himself.

"Speaking as a Marine, I have to say I'm really grateful for the amount of support you give the armed forces," Erin told him. "It really makes a difference to us."

"That's sweet," John commented.

"And true," Erin countered.

"There you are!" Beth called, leaning through the door. "Come on. We have to get you ready."

"Ready for what?" Erin asked, confused.

"Are you coming out with us tonight?" Beth asked.

"Of course!" Erin replied, surprised. Beth looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "What's wrong?" Beth looked at her outfit skeptically. Erin glanced down at her loose tee and jeans, then at Beth, who wore a minidress that was tight in all the right places.

"You're not wearing that," Beth informed her.

"Beth, I'm a Marine," Erin replied. "I don't own anything other than jeans, workout clothes, and cargo pants. Well, I own one dress, but I didn't ship it with me this time."

"We'll fix that," Beth said grimly, grabbing Erin's wrist and dragging her down the hall. "You'll see her later, boys."

"Where are we going?" Erin managed, stumbling along behind Beth.

"Kelly!" Beth yelled. A door down the hall opened, and Kelly Kelly stuck her head out.

"We're all down here, Beth," she called, watching the scene with amusement. "So this is that high school friend you were talking about?"  
"Erin Harris," Erin replied, offering her free hand. Beth yanked her inside before she could shake hands.

"She needs an outfit, and she's too small for my clothes," Beth informed Kelly. Kelly nodded, going to her closet.

"I've got just the thing," she promised. She pulled out a pair of tiny, fitted black leather shorts and a cream-colored halter that dipped low in the front and cut away completely in the back. Erin looked at them, arms crossed stubbornly, but gave in at Beth's insistent glare.

"You're lucky I like you," Erin grumbled. Beth simply handed over a pair of gold heels, and Erin dressed reluctantly. Before she had even finished with the straps of the heels, Beth had shoved her into a chair and tugged her hair free of the braid, pulling out a curling iron.

"Ow!" Erin protested.

"Suck it up, you big baby," Beth retorted, unapologetic. "You're a Marine. This is nothing." Erin sighed, allowing Beth to curl her hair into a cascade of chestnut ringlets. "There you go. Come meet the girls."

Erin followed Beth into the common room, taking a tentative seat on the arm of the couch.

"You're the girl who took on Randy Orton, right?" someone called. Erin smiled crookedly, nodding.

"Erin was my best friend in high school," Beth replied. "You probably recognize most of the girls, but that's Eve, Maria, Stephanie, Mickie, and Natalya. Steph is Vince's daughter, but we don't hold it against her." The Divas each waved as Beth introduced them, raising a glass in a lazy toast. Stephanie snorted into her glass at Beth's last statement, but grinned nonetheless.

"So you're the one who took down the Viper," Eve called. Erin nodded, smiling. "That's seriously amazing."

"We saw the hits he was putting on you," Mickie added. "You have to have some ridiculous levels of pain tolerance or something."

"It's a Marine thing," Erin laughed. "You learn to ignore it after a while, or at least keep going through it."

"We are not talking about pain, Marines, or wrestling right now," Beth informed her sternly. "We are going to out to a club, and you are going to have fun. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Erin giggled, snapping off a salute.

"Alright, before we head out, help our new girl out," Beth called, and the room fell quiet. "Guys to avoid. Go."

"Top on the list is Randy Orton, but apparently we don't have to warn you on that one," Stephanie replied. Erin chuckled slightly, nodding.

"Dave Batista," Eve added. "They call him an animal for a reason."

"I thought it was because of what he does in bed," Kelly said breathily. They all stared at her for a moment before dissolving into giggles.

"Sheamus," Mickie continued, shuddering. "He—just don't go near him, if you can help it."

"Santino Marella," Beth threw in. She winced at the thought. "He's just weird. And he smells funny. And CM Punk has the world's worst attitude. He's pompous and preachy and obnoxious, but he won't do anything physically."

"Hornswoggle doesn't usually come out, but when he does, avoid him," Eve advised. "But I think everybody else is mostly good."

"And the rest of them are pretty much sweethearts. Harmless when they're not in the ring," Maria added.

"I think that's about it," Beth concluded. "Let's go."

* * *

A/N: So there's the match! I hope you guys enjoyed it. Yes, of course Erin won, there wouldn't be much of a story for me to write otherwise. If you predicted that, to quote the grandfather in The Princess Bride: "Yes, yes, you're very smart. Now shut up." Also, I've got tentative names for Erin's two signature moves—the fireman's carry into a Samoan drop will probably be called the IED, and the finisher (the moonsault in layout position with three twists) will be the G.I. Jane. Let me know what you think of the match, por favor. Read and review, please!


	4. Make Friends

Erin's stride as they walked to the club was noticeably different from that of the Divas—her hips did not swing, and her pace was methodical and purposeful.

"Marine-girl, you need to start walking with some attitude," Stephanie informed her.

"Yes, boss," Erin replied, though she shook her head. "I don't think I know how to do attitude, though."

"We're Divas, sweetheart," Kelly reminded her. "We don't go anywhere without attitude. You're walking in with us, so you better get some attitude too."

"I don't know how," Erin replied, trying to stand up straighter.

"Erin, when you're with the Marines, you walk like a Marine, talk like a Marine, carry yourself like a Marine, right?" Beth tried. "So for tonight, you're going to carry yourself like a Diva." Erin's eyes lit up with understanding as Kelly and Beth linked their arms through hers, and her posture changed noticeably.

There were multiple wolf-whistles as they walked in, but they headed straight for the tables in the back, where the guys had managed to save them several seats. Somehow, Erin and Beth both ended up without seats. Beth promptly took a seat on Ted DiBiase's lap, and Erin stood awkwardly, arms crossed. John Cena rose quickly, offering his seat, but Erin shook her head, embarrassed.

"We'll share, then," he informed her, tugging her onto his lap. Erin blushed, and Beth winked at her.

"She cleans up good, doesn't she, boys?" Beth teased. Erin rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Sorry I had to leave so quickly before," she apologized.

"No problem," Mark assured her.

"What were you guys doing, anyway?" Beth asked, curious.

"Truth or dare, but it's not all that exciting when there's only one girl. No offense, Erin," Kofi commented.

"None taken," Erin laughed.

"Want to continue the game?" Kelly offered. "We'll all play, right, girls? One condition, though—you duck the dare or don't answer a truth, and we get to pick a punishment." There were nods of assent from the others, and Mark shrugged.

"We're game if you are," he agreed. "Who's asking first?"

"Me!" Cody Rhodes called. "And I pick Beth. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Beth said tentatively.

"Give Ted a lap dance," Cody dared her, grinning wickedly. Beth rolled her eyes as the guys laughed, and the girls applauded, but performed her dare nonetheless. Ted's face was almost as red as Erin's Shirley Temple, but he clearly enjoyed it.

"Girl, why are you not drinking?" Kelly demanded.

"It's just not really my thing," Erin shrugged. "I don't drink."

"Any particular reason?" John asked, curious.

"My dad was an alcoholic," Erin replied. "I saw what it did to my family. I don't want to put anyone through what I went through."

"My turn!" Beth called, changing the topic quickly. "Kelly, truth or dare?"

"I don't do lap dances until I'm a little more gone, so how about truth?" Kelly replied. Erin stifled a laugh in another sip of her drink, and John smiled up at her.

"What's your secret talent?" Beth asked. "Everybody has to have one, so what's yours?"

"Dancing doesn't count, I guess, since everybody already knows about that," Kelly mused. "I know! I can burp the alphabet."

"As soon as you're drunk enough, guess what you'll be doing?" Eve teased, and Kelly laughed.

"Kofi, truth or dare?" Kelly called.

"Truth," Kofi replied.

"You're no fun," Kelly accused. "Fine. Settle it once and for all—are you from Jamaica, or are you from Ghana?"

"I'm from Ghana," Kofi replied, laughing. "I just have an appreciation of Jamaican culture. Erin, truth or dare?"

"Dare," Erin said. "I'm feeling brave tonight."

"I dare you to go out and play guitar for the crowd before your next match," Kofi called over the noise of the others there. "Specifically, I dare you to play Hey Jude before the entire stadium." Erin looked up at the ceiling pleadingly, shaking her head.

"Fine," she agreed, sighing. "I'll do it. Cody, truth or dare?"

"Truth," Cody answered, taking a drink.

"I really hope your answer is yes, by the way, because I'm a secret nerd," Erin began. "Do you really have the Triforce symbol from Zelda stamped on your match boots?"

"You bet," Cody boasted, though Ted snickered. "It's my favorite game. It's a classic." Erin grinned, high-fiving him across the table. "So you're a secret nerd?"

"I hide it well," Erin replied, winking. "Your turn."

"Shawn, truth or dare?" Cody called.

"Truth," Shawn replied.

"What happened between you and Bret this year?" Cody asked, curious.

"I told him I honestly had nothing to do with the Montreal Screwjob, and that I wish the match would have ended fairly instead," Shawn replied. "I respect him as a wrestler, and he said he respects me too, so it was good that we cleared everything up."

"Boys," Eve commented, rolling her eyes. "You're every bit as sappy as we are."

"Alright, Eve, truth or dare?" Shawn called.

"I'm scared of what you'll dare, but I'll go for it anyway," Eve replied, taking a sip of her drink nervously.

"I dare you to go shot for shot with your boy for the rest of the night," Shawn called back. Eve took a deep breath, and Chris gave her a mischievous grin. "Unless you feel like you're going to pass out."

"Thanks," Eve said sarcastically, though she grinned. "How kind of you. Hunter, truth or dare?"

"Truth," he replied. "I'm not taking dares from Eve when she's in a bad mood."

"That's probably smart," Eve told him. "Because your dare would have been bad. I'll make you be sappy instead. How did you know Stephanie was the one?"

"At first I just wanted to be in a relationship with her because it pissed her father off," he replied. "But she's absolutely brilliant, and she has a really sweet side. I think I fell in love with her when I was so sick that I couldn't get out of bed, and she brought me soup and hot tea until I was better." Hunter glanced lovingly at his wife, seated securely in his arms, and she kissed him sweetly.

"You really are a bunch of saps," Kelly marveled, and Beth stifled a snigger.

"Can it," Hunter growled. "Cena, truth or dare?"

"Dare," John replied. "Since everybody else picked truth."

"I dare you to kiss our newest member," Hunter called, grinning. "And no half-second peck, either. At least ten seconds."

"I have never been gladder that we just signed a girl," John commented. Erin raised her eyebrows, looking distinctly awkward. "If you don't want to, I'll take the punishment," he whispered, for her ears only. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I think if I can handle a half-hour match with Randy Orton, a kiss shouldn't scare me all that much," she whispered, smiling nervously.

"Then let's do this properly," he announced. Taking her drink and setting it down, he rose, drawing her into his arms. The superstars whistled as he dipped her low, kissing her deeply. Erin blushed, smiling against his mouth. He held her there for far longer than the required ten seconds, but she didn't protest. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he whispered, pulling her up.

"Quite the opposite," Erin assured him quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. John waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly, pulling her back into his lap as he retook his seat. "And it's your turn."

"Ted, truth or dare?" John asked, taking a pull of his beer as Erin fought alternately not to grin foolishly and to wipe the blush from her cheeks.

"I'll follow the new trend—dare," Ted replied.

"Can I just mention how much Erin is blushing right now?" Beth called loudly.

"Beth, I haven't kissed anyone since high school," Erin retorted, her blush deepening. "And you know how great I'm not with attention."

"I'm just teasing you, Snow White," Beth promised, laughing. "You know I don't mean it."

"Snow White?" John asked, hiding a smile.

"I started calling her Cinderella in high school," Erin explained. "She was the first girl on the varsity wrestling team. She actually won matches, too, so we called it a Cinderella story, and then I started calling her Cinderella. I joined the team the team my freshman year, when she was a junior. She started calling me Snow White, because we were the team princesses—the boys were rather protective of us. That, and she didn't want to be the only one with a Disney princess nickname."

"You do look kind of like Snow White," Eve mused. "If you had shorter hair, I mean."

"I tried that once," Erin admitted. "It gets completely out of control when it's short."

"Can I give my dare now?" John asked patiently. The girls nodded, laughing quietly. "Ted, I dare you to slap Randy Orton the next time you see him, no matter what the circumstances."

"With pleasure," Ted replied, grinning. "And I don't know about you guys, but I think I'd like to dance, and I intend to bring this beautiful girl with me." He grabbed Beth's arm, pulling her out onto the dance floor as she laughed.

"Looks like a good idea to me," Chris agreed, taking Eve's hand. The others followed slowly, joining them on the floor.

"Want to dance?" John asked, looking at Erin.

"All I know how to do is Latin and ballroom," Erin confessed, blushing once more. "And some ballet, but only because it's supposed to help with footwork. You saw how clumsy I can be."

"It's not that hard," Eve called, laughing. "Just move those white girl hips. Loosen up a little."

"You don't have to be a good Catholic girl all the time," Evan called, winking at her before pulling Kelly close.

"I don't think I know how not to be a good Catholic girl," Erin grumbled.

"Try pretending you're someone else," Beth offered, pressed close to Ted's chest. "Pretend you're a Diva."

"We all know how good a Diva I wouldn't make, though," Erin protested.

"So let me lead," John suggested, taking her hand to spin her into him. "I'm no Fred Astaire, but I at least don't have two left feet."

"Alright," Erin agreed hesitantly, allowing him to guide her hips closer until her back rested securely against his chest.

"You're a musician, right?" John reminded her, his voice a low rumble just behind her ear. "Move with the music."

"I don't know this song," Erin protested.

"Girl, how do you not know 'In My Head'?" Maria asked, shaking her head. "Jason Derulo is one of the hottest artists out there."

"I don't get out much," Erin said sarcastically. She could feel John's chuckle against her back, and she smiled reluctantly.

"Just use the rhythm," he told her quietly, sliding his hands over her hips. Erin sighed, but found to her surprise that when she stopped thinking about it, her hips moved fluidly.

"So much for white girl hips," Eve remarked, smiling. Erin smiled in spite of herself, blushing.

"That's the Latin dance paying off," she replied with a nervous laugh.

"It's sexy, that's what it is," Beth informed her. Behind her, John nodded in agreement. Erin couldn't see him, but the others could, and Beth laughed.

"Last call for drinks!" the bartender called.

"It's two o'clock already?" Gail asked. Several of the guys booed, and Erin laughed.

"We got a suite at the hotel," Shawn offered. "Why don't we head back and hang out for a bit?"

"Dance party in the DX suite!" Eve announced, and they all cheered loudly.

"I'll start calling cabs for y'all," the barkeeper said wearily, picking up the phone. "Which hotel?"

"The Hilton," Evan called. "Okay, who's sharing cabs?"

"If somebody doesn't mind riding up front, Beth and I could share with you and Erin," Ted offered. John shrugged in agreement, continuing to dance with Erin.

"We'll split with you and Chris," Kelly told Eve. As the superstars figured out their driving arrangements, the rest of the bar slowly began to empty out.

"I think they're kicking us out," Erin said, turning to glance at John over her shoulder.

"Are you going to come hang out?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Erin replied, shaking her head. "I'm drained. And I think the aspirin are starting to wear off, so I'm hoping to fall asleep before it really starts hurting."

"Well, I can walk you back up, at least," John offered. "You know, make sure you don't trip on the stairs or something, being clumsy and all," he teased. Erin wrinkled her nose at him.

"My guitar!" she gasped, remembering.

"It's in my locker, and perfectly safe," Mark assured her. "You can grab it when we're at the arena for Superstars tomorrow."

"Thanks," Erin replied, relieved. "I've had that one since middle school. I just keep repairing it."

"Your cabs are here," the bartender called.

"So are you being a spoilsport and going to bed early?" Beth demanded as Ted held open the door for them.

"I'm exhausted, Beth," Erin replied, taking the middle seat of the taxi. Beth took the seat on her right, while John took the seat on her left. "And partying isn't really my scene, anyway. Sleep sounds marvelous right now."

"Guys, don't forgot we have workouts at one," Hunter called. "It's a light day, so it won't take long."

"We'll be there," Ted promised, taking the passenger seat. "Let's go."

"That'll be my first workout with the guys!" Erin realized, excited. "Anything special I need to bring?"

"Just whatever you'd work out in," John replied, shrugging. "We'll get you all set up, don't worry."

"Alright," Erin smiled. "Anybody know if we're all on the same floor of the hotel?"

"I think so," Beth replied. "And I know you've got the room next to me—you're 324, right?" Erin checked her hotel pass quickly.

"Yup," she agreed.

"Cody and I have the room across from you," Ted called, turning to look at them. "And John, you have the room next to us, right?"

"That's right," John replied. "Erin, did you come to the hotel earlier and drop off your stuff? I know we didn't see you when we were arriving."

"My flight got in yesterday," Erin explained. "I figured I'd check in early and just get settled."

"Here we are," the cabbie told them, smiling.

"I've got the tab," John said quickly. The others thanked him as they got out of the car, entering the lush hotel's foyer.

"Elevator or stairs?" Ted asked.

"Stairs," Erin replied.

"Elevator," Beth replied simultaneously. The girls looked at each other and laughed.

"Enjoy your elevator ride," Erin whispered, leaning over so that only Beth could hear her. Erin winked mischievously as Beth blushed, and she laughed.

"Good God, would he just ask her out already?" John muttered. Erin turned, raising her eyebrows in agreement.

"You mind taking the stairs?" she asked. "I developed claustrophobia during the war."

"You said you were a POW?" John asked, opening the door to the staircase.

"Yes," Erin replied shortly. John got the hint, and switched topics quickly.

"I don't know if you knew, but our hotel rooms come stocked with heating pads and IcyHot," he said. "If you leave them on while you sleep, you'll actually be able to walk tomorrow."

"Thanks for the tip," Erin replied, her smile returning slowly but surely. "I'm definitely going to need it."

"And I owe you a back massage, in return for the one you gave," John informed her.

"You also owe me a backstage tour," Erin reminded him. "Which I'm calling in tomorrow, by the way."

"Deal," John promised. "I can introduce you to the Smackdown guys at Superstars on Thursday, too."

"Sounds like a plan," Erin agreed, pausing at her door. "Thanks, John."

"Anytime," John smiled. "We'll probably all grab lunch around 11—want me to knock?"

"I never sleep late—I'll be up," Erin promised. "But sure, that's fine."

"Alright," John replied. "Goodnight, Erin."

"Goodnight, John," Erin said, closing her door quietly behind her. She only just managed to change into a camisole and sweatpants before sleep overtook her, and her head hit the pillow.

_Fallujah, Iraq was a dry, sandy hellhole. Erin's squad had finished their routine patrol, and everything was normal; their commander had given them the afternoon to rest. Rather than sit around, they had volunteered for a mercy mission—bringing newly-arrived books and medical supplies to a local school. Erin went to the girls' side of the school, and spent the afternoon exchanging jokes and playing songs for them. But when she went to leave, just as she turned the corner, a chlorophyll-soaked cloth covered her mouth. She gasped, choking, and collapsed into unconsciousness._

_ When she woke up, the only source of light was the barred window over her head, set in a thick cement wall. She was on a metal slab, wrists handcuffed to the wall above her bed. Her uniform was gone, replaced by a white cotton shift. Her door slammed open as three turban-clad men entered, and that was the last moment she remembered without pain._

_ She was interrogated, she remembered. There was the standard battery of interrogation techniques—electrical shocks, beating, whipping, sleep deprivation, threats. She gave up nothing more than her name, rank, and social security number, thinking wryly in a moment of clarity that she would need to be careful of identity theft if she ever got back. When the standard techniques didn't work, her captors turned to more extreme measures._

_ Those were the measures she had nightmares about tonight._

_ They would tie her to the slab, and rape her, one by one. They'd bring in captured soldiers, and force them to rape her. One had refused. Erin had seen him shot in front of her. Once, she had recognized a soldier—a Marine from her company, though not her squad, with two sons and a wife at home. He had known her too, and in a cruel twist of fate, she had begged him to rape her so they didn't shoot him. He had cried the entire time, as had she. She nearly bit through her lip each time, fighting to keep silent, but she inevitably ended up screaming until her throat was raw and her voice refused to come, and even then she couldn't stop, but screamed on silently._

"Erin!" someone bellowed, banging on the door. "Erin, are you alright?" Erin fell to the floor with an echoing thud, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Her curls were soaked, hanging in tired tendrils over her shoulders. She pulled it up into a messy bun as she scrambled for the door, striving to appear normal.

"I'm fine," she rasped, her voice raw, opening the door and looking up. John shook his head, handing over a tissue. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You were screaming," he explained. Her face was tear-streaked, but she didn't appear to notice. Erin looked down.

"I—I'm sorry I woke you," she managed. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Are you sure you're alright?" John asked, looking at her, concerned. "You want to talk about it?" For a moment, Erin almost said yes. But she shook her head and swallowed hard.

"I'm fine," she insisted stubbornly, as though saying it one more time might make it true. "I'll—I'll see you at lunch." John shrugged awkwardly, and she closed the door before he could say anything more. Erin sighed, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, knowing that she wouldn't sleep anymore that night.

* * *

A/N: And thus arriveth Chapter 4! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it. Once again, I started this story back in January (which is half of why Shawn's still around. Plus, I like DX), so keep that in mind whenever you see something that seems out-of-date. Also, I promise not to make Erin too angsty, don't worry. Read and review, please, as always.


	5. Learn the Ropes

Morning took every bit as long as she expected to arrive, but she greeted it from the balcony of the lounge at the end of the hall. She had exchanged her sweat-soaked clothes for the short silk robe that came with her room, leaving her feet bare and braiding and re-braiding her hair. She watched the sun as it rose, eyes distant.

"So do you want to talk about it?" Beth asked, taking the seat next to her.

"You heard me, too?" Erin groaned. "I'm sorry, Beth, I didn't even know I was—"

"I couldn't hear you," Beth reassured her. "Cody stayed in somebody else's room last night."

"So you and Ted—" Erin asked, waggling her eyebrows. Beth blushed.

"John told me," she interrupted quickly. "He was worried about you, and he thought that if you wouldn't talk to him, you might talk to me." Erin looked down, and neither girl noticed that John was leaning against the door of the lounge, listening intently. "Snow, I know that you didn't tell me everything in those letters you wrote me." Erin took a deep breath, staring out into the distance once more.

"So you know I was a prisoner of war," she admitted slowly. "Marines are taught to handle torture, but they don't tell you how bad it truly is. The pain was bad, but I could handle it. They—when I wouldn't talk, they tried—other methods. I was raped. Repeatedly. By my captors, and by other soldiers, at gunpoint, and by anything they could find to put in me. They kept me dosed up on ketamine so that I couldn't escape. My squad finally found me, but I had to be sedated for three days before I could talk without screaming. I convinced them to let me finish my tour. I lied to the psychologist. But I still have nightmares, sometimes—not often. Last night was the worst they'd been in a while."

"Oh, Erin," Beth whispered softly, horrified. "Don't you know you don't have to do this alone?" Erin looked up at her for a moment before collapsing into Beth's hug, crying silently into her shoulder. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, but she refused to make a sound. With a long, shuddering breath, she sat up, wiping her eyes. Beth smoothed her hair out of her face. "You need to talk about it, to bleed off the poison. I'm always here for you, and you know it, okay?"

"Okay, Beth," Erin managed, hugging her friend one last time. "I really needed that. I'll see you at lunch." She rose somewhat shakily, settling herself before making her way back to the room. John quickly walked away, pretending he had only just come out of his room.

"Thank you," she whispered, stepping closer. "For telling Beth." Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek swiftly before ducking back into her room. Outside, Beth sighed, shaking her head.

"She'll tell you someday, when she's ready," was all she said, patting John's shoulder.

Erin slipped into jeans and her favorite t-shirt—a fitted black tee bearing the slogan "Perseverance: The courage to ignore the obvious wisdom of turning back" beneath a picture of a car driving straight into a tornado. Fixing her hair into a quick French braid, she grabbed her wallet and room card, opening her door just as John knocked.

"Ready to go?" he asked. Erin nodded. Her eyes were still slightly red, but she looked far calmer than before.

"Don't even think about leaving without us," Ted warned, holding Beth's hand as they made their way down the hall.

"Wouldn't dream of it," John retorted. Noting their intertwined hands, he raised his eyebrows teasingly. "Have a good night?" Erin smacked his arm, rolling her eyes.

"Be nice," she hissed. "No teasing Cinderella." She glanced over at Ted. "Sorry, Ted, but you're fair game."

"Gee, thanks," Ted replied sarcastically. Erin and Beth giggled, glancing at each other.

"I think we're the first ones here," Beth remarked, noting the empty dining room. "Dibs on the first cup of coffee!" Erin made a face.

"I hate coffee," she stage-whispered to John. "I'm too much of a tea person."

"I'm a coffee boy myself," he replied, shaking his head. "I need that caffeine."

"I think it's the mess hall coffee," Erin commented, taking a plate for herself, shuddering at the memory. "I swear it's made with diluted tar."

"That sounds lovely," Evan drawled, following Kelly into the dining room. "Diluted tar…delicious."

"The sad thing is, you're so tired you drink it anyway," Erin called, taking a seat with a plate full of scrambled eggs and an ice cream-topped waffle.

"What is that, and why have I never eaten one?" John demanded, pointing to the waffle. "That looks amazing." Erin laughed, rising and taking his plate.

"It's a Belgian waffle," she replied. "I find it exceptionally depressing that you've never had one. You need at least two scoops of ice cream, hot fudge sauce, and whipped cream. Here you go." She handed over his plate, pouring herself a glass of milk before taking her seat once more.

"I'm making one," Cody announced, joining them. "Because that looks fantastic."

"It is fantastic," John informed him, his mouth completely full. "I hereby declare Tuesday morning Belgian Waffle Mornings."

"Sounds like a plan," Beth laughed. Slowly, the other superstars trickled in, yawning as they did.

"Man, and I thought I wasn't much of a morning person," Ted remarked, looking at the others.

"You just hold your liquor really well," Cody reminded him. "I think Hunter and Shawn are the only ones without hangovers."

"The miracle of being Irish," Hunter called. MVP groaned at the volume of his voice, and Erin smothered a laugh.

"Ready for workouts?" Shawn teased.

"Man, I don't even want to _think_ about the gym," MVP groaned.

"What are we doing today?" Erin asked eagerly.

"Since everybody wrestled last night, we'll be doing lifting workouts only today," Hunter announced. "But it's a total body day, so don't do a split workout."

"Are we doing groups again?" Cody called.

"No, just pair off," Shawn replied.

"Cena, you want to partner up?" Kofi called. John shook his head.

"Why don't you and Mark work together?" he suggested. "I'm going to see if I can help introduce Erin to our program. If you don't mind, that is." Erin smiled, relieved.

"I don't mind," she promised. "And I know I'll need some help with the workouts, definitely. I'm also calling in my tour."

"Fine by me," John promised. "Actually, if you're done, we could go now."

"Sure," Erin replied, shrugging. She took her dishes to the washing station, offering a quiet thanks to the workers there before following John out.

"So I know we travel a lot, but the basic layout of most stadiums is the same," he informed her. "You mind a taxi?"

"Actually, how about my motorcycle?" Erin replied, smiling mischievously. "I had it shipped into town. It holds two, and I've always got a spare helmet."

"Alright," John agreed, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's been a long time since I've been on a motorcycle, though."

"It's like riding a bike," Erin called over her shoulder, bouncing down the steps to the hotel garage. "You never forget." She tossed him a helmet, grinning as she strapped on her own. With a small, excited laugh, she swung one leg over, settling easily into her seat. "Come on!" John climbed on a little more slowly, balancing carefully.

"Where do I hold on?" he asked.

"My waist," Erin replied, kick-starting the bike. The engine roared to life, and she patted the handlebars proudly. "Ready?" John leaned forward awkwardly, wrapping his arms around her waist as she whipped out of the garage. Erin laughed as they flew down the city streets, and John couldn't help but smile in response.

"If you think this is fun, you should try her on the open road," she called, still laughing. "Open throttle, full speed—it's almost like flying."

"I can imagine," John chuckled, his grip on her waist tightening as they pulled into the stadium parking lot. She parked carefully, tucking her helmet under one arm as she stepped clear of the seat.

"Well?" she asked, smiling. "What do you think?"

"I think I need to go buy a motorcycle," John replied, holding onto his helmet as well. Erin grinned outright, and John's smile broadened. "Ready for your tour?"

"Where do we start?" she asked.

"Basement," John said promptly, leading her down a flight of stairs. "All our equipment's down here—supplies, steel chairs, tables, ladders, all that fun stuff. The guys who have costumes get fitted down here, and on Slammy night, this is where everybody gets last-minute alterations done."

"Got it," Erin replied.

"Next level up are the trainers' rooms," John went on, and she followed him upstairs. "Off days, you can come here for therapy, but they're usually in charge of taping and everything on match days. Any of your injury recovery goes through here, and we've got pretty good trainers, for the most part. If you want, they'll also do IcyHot rubdowns before matches—gets you really warmed up."

"We went through gallons of that stuff in Fallujah," Erin commented. "We all wrote home for it. That, and silly string."

"Silly string?" John asked, laughing slightly.

"For tripwires and IEDs," Erin replied seriously. Her solemn expression dissolved as she cracked a smile. "And the occasional silly string fight."

"You should suggest that to the Divas," he suggested, leading her out of the training center. "A silly string battle royale."

"That sounds epic," Erin agreed, laughing. "I'll tell Beth."

"Good," John said firmly. "Now. The Divas' locker rooms are here, and the guys' locker rooms are just down the hall, but the greenroom's for everybody, and that's another level up."

"That I remember," Erin replied, smiling. "What about warm-ups?"

"There's space in the back of the trainers' rooms for that," John replied. "Punching bags, treadmills, elliptical, bikes—everything. Last stop on the tour is the holding area behind the ramp." He led her to the large, open space behind the stadium entrance. "Soundboard is over here, but lights and pyrotechnics are all out in the stadium."

"Who decides on pyrotechnics for the superstars?" Erin asked, curious. "I know Mr. McMahon and I determined my theme music when I got contracted, but I didn't hear anything about the pyrotechnics."

"Usually, the pyro guys like to have some idea of your style before they decide what they're going to do with lights and all," John replied. "Actually, they'll probably meet with you soon to go over it."

"I don't want anything too extravagant," Erin noted, shrugging. "I just like explosions. As long as they're not the kind that could…you know…kill me. Got enough of them in Iraq."

"I think most of us prefer the non-lethal kind," John remarked, grinning. "But that's it for the tour."

"That was a lot faster than I expected," Erin replied, surprised. "It's not even eleven."

"What can I say?" John asked, shrugging, though he grinned. "I'm quick."

"Quickity-quick?" Erin teased, quirking up one corner of her mouth.

"My quick and my fast had a baby—" John started.

"—named him Speedy," Erin finished, laughing. "Secret confession: I listen to that Nike commercial before my matches."

"Don't worry," John replied, laughing. "You're not the only one. Ready to go?"

"Yup," Erin replied. "What time are workouts again?"

"One o'clock," John reminded her. "Gold's Gym on 14th Street. Want to meet up at 12:45, so we can get all of your stuff figured out?"

"Sounds like a plan," Erin agreed, leading the way back to the parking lot, slipping her helmet back on. John followed her lead hastily, settling himself in the seat. Their trip back to the hotel was equally speedy, and the two walked back to their rooms in companionable silence.

* * *

A/N: I'm so sorry I was late with the chapter! *hangs head in shame* To make up for it, I'll post TWO chapters today!

So I know Erin has some pretty heavy stuff to deal with, but I don't want to make this entire story about her coping. So here's how I've been writing it: she's been back in the states for a while, and has previously seen a therapist. She's getting better, but just like anyone diagnosed with PTSD, she has occasional relapses (aka nightmares). Sound good to you guys? And for more information on PTSD or what you can do to help returning veterans, go to ./.

Anywho, there'll be more wrestling in the next chapter, I promise. Read and review, please!


	6. Know Who You Are

John glanced up at the clock on the wall, glancing back down the hallway just in time to see Erin making his way towards him. She carried a workout bag over one shoulder, wearing only a tight black sports bra and lightweight sweatpants.

"Kajukenbo," she explained, in response to his questioning look. "I used one of the empty rooms in the back to practice in. It's a fantastic workout, but the trainers want me lifting more."

"Did you map out a workout already?" John asked. "I know the trainers give out a general idea of what we should do, but we get to individualize them."

"I got my degree in computer science," Erin laughed. "I could definitely use a workout designed for me."

"I could help," John offered. "My degree's in exercise physiology. I consult a trainer every now and then, but I mostly design my own workouts. If you've got your evaluation worksheet, I could take a look at what you're supposed to work on."

"Sure," Erin shrugged, reaching into the pocket of her bag to find it. "I've got it in my bag."

"Looks like the trainers want you working on upper body more," John remarked, looking over her evaluation. "We'll start you with some total body to warm up, then do some isolation work. What lifting have you done before?"

"Only free weights, mostly," Erin replied. "Bicep curls, tricep extensions—lifts like that."

"You sound bored just talking about them," John remarked dryly.

"They're not quite as fun as my kajukenbo workouts," Erin said, trying not to sound like she was whining. John laughed, shaking his head.

"I'll see what I can do to make lifting fun," he promised. "Actually, it's a lot more fun if you're competing against someone, so just working out with the guys should help. And you'll never be short on spotters, so you can do a much wider variety of exercises. I'll give you a walkthrough, so we can figure out what weight you should be lifting and the right form for the exercises."

"So where to first?" Erin asked.

"We'll start with squats and deadlifts," John replied. "Have you ever done either?"

"We squatted in the Marines, but not with weights," Erin said. "I know the form, at least." She winced, remembering. "They'd get in your face and start screaming if anything was wrong with it, so you learned pretty quick."

"I don't do yelling much, except in the ring," John promised. "Go ahead and show me your form for squatting, and I'll see if it needs correcting. Do it without the bar first." Erin shrugged, placing her feet shoulder-width apart and squaring her shoulders, dropping her hips before bending at her knees and lowering until her thighs were parallel to the ground, rising slow and controlled.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Perfect," John remarked. "Now we do it with weights—figure out what the most you can possibly lift at, and then we'll work at 60-70% of that." He slid weights on either end of the bar, and she hoisted it onto her shoulders, squatting easily. "Too light." He added several more disks, continuing until she began to struggle to rise again.

"How much?" she asked, breathing a little heavily.

"250," John replied, whistling under his breath. "That's more than twice your body weight." Erin shrugged, embarrassed.

"We were told we had to be able to carry any man in our squad," she replied. "The biggest guy in ours was 225. In the Crucible—the final training exercise at basic training—he broke his ankle. We all took turns carrying him in three mile shifts, and I was the one who carried him back into camp."

"Wow," John managed. "That's intense." Erin smiled abashedly as they moved progressively through deadlifts, power cleans, leg presses, free weights, and the cable column. When they were done, Erin was sweat-covered and breathing heavily, and John held a sheet of exercises for her.

"Do you need a spotter?" she asked, wiping her forehead with a spare towel. "Assuming I can actually handle most of your weights."

"I honestly won't be surprised if you can," John replied. "You're putting up some serious numbers." Erin flexed her arms playfully, laughing. "I got some of my stuff done early, but I could use to finish up. And the pyro guys called—they want to meet with you whenever you're available. Apparently, they have some real fun things planned for your display."

"Oh, boy," Erin replied, shaking her head ruefully. "What've you got left?"

"Dumbbell bench presses, tricep extensions, and military presses," John replied. "Do you know how to spot those?"

"I think I saw what you did," Erin replied confidently. "Spot at the elbows for dumbbell bench press and military press, and just be ready to grab the weight for tricep extensions."

"Quick learner," John remarked, and Erin grinned. "Let's go." Erin followed him to the bench.

"How much do you need?" she asked, going over to the weight rack.

"125 pounds each for the bench press, to start," John replied, his voice muffled as he turned to adjust the bench. Erin whistled quietly, bringing the weights over one at a time. John hefted them easily, reclining until he lay on his back. "Help me get them up," he grunted, and Erin immediately squatted until she cupped his elbows, pressing up until John's arms were straight. He completed ten repetitions before sitting up.

"How many sets?" Erin asked, taking the weights and setting them down.

"Three," John answered, lying down once more. "Let's do it." Erin helped him through two more sets before moving through the tricep extensions and military presses, marveling at the weight he lifted all the while.

"That'll do it," he said finally, racking the weights for the last time. "Thanks. Ready to head back to the hotel?"

"Sure," Erin replied, grabbing her bag from the cubbies as they left. "Where am I supposed to meet the pyro guys?"

"Conference room on the third floor," John called, grabbing his own bag. "They're in there checking the plans for tonight's show anyway."

"Got it," Erin replied, and they walked for a few blocks in silence.

"You think you could show me some of your kajukenbo stuff next time we're at the gym?" John asked abruptly as they entered the hotel, opting this time to take the elevator to their rooms. "I've got a bit of a background in boxing, but it seems like it'd be really helpful in the ring."

"Sure!" Erin promised, smiling cheerfully. "Besides, I definitely owe you. I'd be glad to." She waved cheerfully as she entered her room. She changed quickly into her jeans and a black U.S. Marines t-shirt before heading out, wallet in hand, to the conference room. She knocked quickly, opening the door and peering around it cautiously.

"Miss Harris!" someone called. "Come in, come in." Erin ducked into the room, smiling shyly. "Meet the guys—Brian, Pete, Rob, and Roy. I'm Steve."

"Nice to meet you," Erin replied, shaking their hands as they rose. "Just call me Erin."

"Have a seat, Erin," Rob called, pulling out a chair for her. "Heard any rumors about us yet?"

"Nah," Erin replied easily, grinning. "But I'm really excited to hear what you've got planned."

"We're actually waiting for Creative to get here," Steve admitted. "We have to coordinate the pyrotechnics with your entrance, and they usually have some idea of what they want you to do for that."

"Did somebody say they were waiting for us?" Stephanie called, opening the door. "I come bearing plans and schemes!" Erin laughed, offering the seat next to her.

"What've you got in mind?" Erin asked, smiling.

"First of all, that standing moonsault you did," Stephanie replied, getting straight to the point. "Can we make that part of your entrance? Can you come out and maybe do a backflip, then salute the crowd, military-style?"

"We can work with that," Roy said quickly, scribbling something down on the papers in front of him. "We can definitely work with that."

"And I take it what you wore last night—that'll be your uniform? Cargo pants and the sports bra and the combat boots?" Stephanie continued. Erin shrugged.

"I'm fine with that," she replied agreeably.

"Okay," Stephanie said decisively. "Here's what we've got for your entrance. 'Bleed It Out' starts playing, you run out, stand at the top of the ramp, do a backflip. March to the right and salute that half of the audience, march to the left and salute that half of the audience, then come down to the ring."

"I like the sound of that," Erin said slowly, smiling.

"I've got something that should work for pyrotechnics," Steve added. "We'll have the overheads raining sparks as you run out. When you do the backflip, we'll cut that and have the gold flares go off when you land, and we'll have the red and blue sprayers going while you salute—give it a patriotic vibe." Erin's smile broadened, and she nodded agreement.

"I like it," Stephanie agreed. "Now, the only thing we've got left is your entrance video. Normally, we'd draw clips from your previous matches, but you've only got one match to use. We can definitely pull the finisher you used, and that moonsault, but we'd like to shoot some video of you to establish you for the fans."

"What were you thinking?" Erin asked politely, uncertain.

"I want you in your uniform, for sure," Stephanie replied, mapping it out in her head as she spoke. "Maybe doing some working out—running, sit-ups, pull-ups, pushups. I think it'd be good to end the video with something patriotic, like you saluting the flag or something. The vibe I've been getting from you is hardworking and patriotic, and I want that to be the focus of your entrance video."

"I can do that," Erin nodded. "When do you want that done?"

"I'd be fine as long as it's done by Friday," Stephanie replied. "How about Wednesday afternoon, say 3:00?"

"Perfect," Erin agreed.

"One last thing," Stephanie said quickly. "We need to name your finisher, because "triple corkscrew moonsault in layout position" is a little long. It needs to be something distinctive, so that people remember who does it." Erin grinned.

"How about the G.I. Jane?" she suggested. Stephanie grinned in reply, nodding approvingly.

"Perfect. And that's it," Stephanie informed her, packing up her folders. "You're all set."

"Great," Erin smiled, shaking Stephanie's hand before turning back to the pyro guys. "Thanks again, guys."

"Anytime," Steve replied, waving lazily. "Come see us if you have any questions. Or if you want to blow stuff up. Or light things on fire. We're the guys to go to for that."

"I'll keep that in mind," Erin laughed, waving as she left, still shaking her head as she reached her room and closed the door once more.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, I promised wrestling this chapter, but I couldn't make it fit. I had to split this chapter up, and the wrestling's in the next chapter. Sorry, sorry. But read and review anyway, please!


	7. Stand Up for What's Right

Tuesday afternoon and evening were spent with the Raw superstars, who provided her with helpful backstage tips. Wednesday's workout was far harder than Tuesday's, but Erin found herself enjoying it, especially as she began to practice some off-the-rope moves with Evan. Thursday morning included a run, and she spent Thursday afternoon reading, taking breaks every so often to get up and move around. Dinner was eaten with the Divas, minus Beth, who was getting ready for the show. When John came to pick her up for Superstars, she still wore her cargo pants and Marines t-shirt.

"It's fine," he assured her, smiling. "Pretty much everyone wears their uniforms on Superstars anyway, even if they're just visiting."

"Good," Erin replied, laughing. "Want to take the motorcycle there again?"

"Yes," John said immediately, and Erin chuckled.

"Come on," she replied, handing over her spare helmet once more. The trip to the stadium seemed even shorter this time, and Erin managed to find a parking spot near the lower entrance.

"I have to go talk to Morrison real quick," John admitted, hanging up his helmet.

"That's fine," Erin promised. "I wanted to go wish Beth good luck anyway. Want to meet up in the greenroom?"

"Sounds like a plan," John agreed, flashing a smile before disappearing quickly down the hallway. Erin shook her head, turning to the right to head to the Divas' locker room. At the end of the hallway, however, she saw a small girl cornered by a far larger wrestler—Luke Gallows, she realized, recognizing him from SmackDown. She squinted, trying to see the girl, and recognized her as Rey Mysterio's daughter.

"Hey!" Erin called, jogging towards them and placing herself between Luke and Alia. "Gallows, you've got no business here, and if I see you near her again, you better kiss any chance of ever having kids of your own goodbye."

"This is not your matter, and this is not your show," Luke growled. "Besides, we're just having a friendly conversation, aren't we, princess?" Alia, eyes wide with terror, shook her head. He chuckled nastily, reaching out to pat her head. Erin snapped her hand up, pushing his hand aside. Luke sneered at her, leaving slowly. Erin immediately knelt to the little girl's level, and Alia stumbled forward, burying her head in Erin's shoulder and bursting into tears.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Erin whispered, rubbing slow, calming circles on Alia's back. "He's gone, Alia. I promise. I won't let him hurt you." Alia's tears slowly subsided into quiet sniffles, and Erin handed her a tissue. "Let's go find your dad, alright?"

"How do you know my name?" Alia asked shyly. Erin glanced down at her.

"I'm a big fan of your dad's," she confessed. "I actually just got signed to Raw, but I wanted to visit my best friend, Beth Phoenix, which is why I'm here tonight."

"I like Beth," Alia smiled, exposing a gap-toothed grin. "She watches me when my dad wrestles, sometimes. She's teaching me how to defend myself."

"She's good at that," Erin replied, grinning wryly. "She's actually my best friend since high school.

"Alia!" someone roared, and Erin saw Rey Mysterio as he flew around the corner. "Alia!"

"It's alright, Rey, I've got her," Erin called. "She's safe. I was on the way to the locker room when I heard Gallows, and he had Alia backed into a corner. She said he didn't hurt her, but I wasn't about to let it happen." She released Alia's hand, and the little girl immediately ran to her father.

"Alia, did he hurt you?" Rey asked, the anger in his voice carefully controlled.

"No, Papi," Alia promised. "She made him go away." Rey looked at Erin, as though seeing her for the first time.

"I'm Erin Harris—I just got drafted to Raw," Erin explained quickly. "I came to see Beth Phoenix, but I ran into Alia first."

"And I'm grateful you did," Rey replied, reaching out to shake her hand.

"I just wished I'd been there to keep him from ever being near her in the first place," Erin replied, shaking her head. "CM Punk and his society need to be taught a lesson." She glanced down at Alia. "Sorry, Alia—shouldn't have used a bad word like 'CM Punk' in front of you." Rey chuckled, still holding his daughter protectively. "I just wish I could actually fight them, but they're not on Raw. I've never liked the guy."

"Not that I blame you, but why not?" Rey asked, curious.

"I'm straight-edge, too," Erin replied simply. "But he's way too militant about it. That really died out in the '80s, and you don't change peoples' minds by forcing them into it." Rey looked at her, considering her words.

"Why don't you tag-team with me?" Rey suggested impulsively. "They never turn down a challenge. I'd love to put them in their place."

"You mean it?" Erin asked, excited.

"Absolutely," Rey agreed, smiling. "We'll head out after the first match and challenge them."

"I want to come," Alia piped up. "I want to show that I'm not scared of them."

"Alia—" Rey started.

"I'm a big girl, Papi," Alia insisted. "You said I need to be strong, and I can do it."

"What if I keep her on my shoulders?" Erin offered, seeing that he was ready to refuse. "Practically speaking, they're more likely to attack you, and I can get her out of there."

"Please, Papi?" Alia begged, eyes wide and pleading.

"Alright," Rey sighed. His voice turned stern as he added, "But only if you stay on Erin's shoulders. Comprendes?"

"Sí, Papi," Alia promised. "I will."

"It's a good thing I wore cargo pants," Erin remarked. "For the fighting, I mean. Alia, want to practice how high you sit?" Alia nodded eagerly, and Erin laughed as she knelt, allowing the younger girl to clamber onto her shoulders. "Hold on tight, okay?" Alia giggled, clutching Erin's neck as Erin rose, and Rey smiled as he watched them run up and down the hallway. Distantly, he heard the bell ring, followed shortly by CM Punk's music as the Straight Edge Society began preaching from the ring.

"That's our cue," Rey called, and Erin turned, jogging easily back toward him, Alia bouncing on her shoulders. "I'll wave you out once I'm ready for you, alright?"

"Okay, Papi!" Alia called, giddy.

"We'll be just backstage," Erin promised. Rey nodded, taking a deep breath before bursting out onto the ramp. The crowd roared as he ran out, and Alia smiled proudly.

"CM Punk, there is no line you haven't crossed," Rey called as the sound quieted. "I thought that interrupting my daughter's birthday celebration was enough, but apparently not. So I've got two people who'd really like to say hello." Erin grabbed a microphone quickly, holding Alia's legs in place before she could fall.

"Let's go," she whispered. Alia giggled, and Erin walked out carefully. The crowd on Superstars recognized her, but it was Alia that everyone cheered for. Erin smiled up at the little girl, waiting for the crowd's noise to die down.

"Alia, why don't you tell Mr. Gallows what you think he is?" Erin asked, holding the microphone up.

"He's a stinkface and a bully," Alia said promptly, and the crowd laughed.

"Out of the mouth of babes and innocents, right?" Erin encouraged. When she looked at the ring, her smile disappeared. "I may be the newest superstar in the WWE, but even I know that you don't mess with a man's family. And you don't go anywhere near a nine-year-old girl when she's alone, and you certainly don't back her into a corner and scare her half to death!" The crowd looked at the ring, shocked, and Luke Gallows scowled darkly.

"I've invited Miss Harris to be my special partner for the night," Rey continued. "We're challenging you to a tag-team match, and if you want to prove that you're not as cowardly as preying on nine-year-old children would lead us to believe, you'll accept the challenge. And if you lose the match, all three of you will apologize to mi familia, and Gallows will apologize to my daughter."

"You've got a match," CM Punk snapped. "Right here, right now. Get a referee down here. Let's do this." Rey glanced up at Alia swiftly, concern evident on his face.

"If she sits with the announcers, there's security over there," Erin said quietly. "Mike and Jerry may be—well, boisterous, but they're good guys."

"Alright," Rey agreed, equally quiet. Erin followed him to the Raw announcers' table, and Jerry quickly pulled up a seat for Alia.

"What do you think, kiddo—want to help announce the match?" he offered.

"Okay," Alia agreed eagerly.

"Blessing and besa, mi hija?" Rey asked, kneeling in front of his daughter. Alia smiled, tracing the sign of the Cross on his forehead, chest, and shoulders.

"In el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo," she recited, kissing her father's forehead. "Good luck, Papi." She glanced at Erin, smiling once more. "Do you want a blessing too?" Erin couldn't help but smile in response.

"Alright," she agreed, kneeling as well. Alia traced the same signs on Erin, whispering the same blessing. "How could we possibly lose now?"

Mike helped Alia into a headset as Erin and Rey climbed into the ring. Rey jumped onto the ropes, crossing himself, as Erin saluted the crowd from the center of the ring. As the referee called for them to take their positions, Erin vaulted out of the ring, placing her hat quickly on Alia's head before standing in Rey's corner.

"Go get 'em, Rey," she whispered. He let Luke charge, rolling out of the way at the last second. Luke crashed headfirst into the corner pole, and Erin smiled tightly as Rey pounced on him, driving blows into his head until the referee pulled him off.

"That's enough, Rey," he barked. Rey backed up, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Luke charged him again. He dropped, catching Luke's ankles and knocking him onto his face. He drove blows into Luke's head again and again, and CM Punk dove into the ring, tackling Rey off of his disciple. Luke rolled groggily, trying to rise to his feet. Movement in the corner of her eye caused Erin to turn, seeing that Serena had pulled a steel chair from under the mats and was ready to pass it to Luke.

"Not a chance," Erin growled, baseball-sliding out of the ring. Her boots connected with Serena's shoulders, knocking her to the ground. Serena lay stunned, and Erin smiled grimly, hopping back into the ring in time to see Luke connect a right hook with Rey's jaw before Punk tagged himself in on Luke's shoulder. Erin drop-kicked Luke in the back, rising and bringing her leg around for a roundhouse kick. Luke caught it, and she connected an enzuigiri with his temple. He dropped like a stone, and Erin turned around to see Rey wriggle out of the Go to Sleep and drive an elbow into CM Punk's kidney before knocking him into the ropes. She hit a picture-perfect G.I. Jane on Gallows as Rey connected with the 619, knocking CM Punk to the mats. Rey pinned Punk easily, and the crowd erupted into applause as Luke and CM Punk slunk out of the ring, not even waiting to nurse their injuries. Alia wriggled out of her seat, and Jerry lifted her into the ring. Rey picked his daughter up, spinning her around swiftly and planting a kiss on her forehead.

"You did it!" she cheered, grinning. "You did it, Papi!"

"I couldn't have done it without Erin," Rey told his daughter, turning to his tag-team partner. "Thank you again." Erin shook his hand firmly, smiling.

"Thank you for the opportunity," she replied, smiling up at Alia. "You be safe now, ameerah, alright?"

"What's that mean?" Alia asked, curious. "Ameerah?"

"'Princess,'" Erin replied simply, and Alia giggled.

"I will," Alia promised, still grinning. "Thank you!" She jumped free of her father's arms to hug Erin's legs tightly. Erin laughed, lifting the little girl up and hugging her properly before setting her down. She saluted the crowd once more, waving as she left, and ran back up the ramp.

"Nice match," John remarked, leaning back in his seat in front of the backstage monitor. Erin glanced over at him, startled, and smirked. "So much for an off night."

"He was threatening a nine-year-old girl," Erin retorted. "You don't mess with kids. Everybody knows that."

"It was a sweet thing to do," John replied, smiling. "Come on. Ready to watch the rest of the matches?" He patted the seat next to him, and Erin took it gratefully. "I even grabbed you a drink—Shirley Temple. I remembered."

"You're sweet," she remarked, smiling. "Now let's watch some wrasslin'."

* * *

A/N: Finally, as promised, another wrestling match! In case you couldn't tell, I'm not a big CM Punk fan. I'm all for what he stands for, but not the way he goes about it (yes, I know CM Punk is a character, blah blah blah).

Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed so far! It really means a lot to me that you take the time not only to read what I've worked so hard on, but also to give me your feedback. Thanks especially to gc'sbaby2985, SmoochyAddict, Taykit12, Lynnie Vicious, and .

As ever, read and review, please!


	8. Practice Your Networking Skills

The night ended uneventfully, and Erin was happy to sleep at the end of it. Friday's workout the next day was significantly harder, since the Raw superstars had the night off, and Erin was more than ready for a bath once she was done—though she had to settle for a quick shower instead.

"Erin, Vince wants to see you in the third-floor conference room," Hunter called, toweling off. "He says it's important."

"I'll get right down there," Erin promised, changing her shirt quickly before trotting down to the third floor. The door to the conference room was open, and Erin smiled as she entered. "You wanted to see me, Mr. McMahon?"

"Yes—yes, come have a seat," Mr. McMahon offered, pulling out a chair. "This won't take long. You just had a workout, I take it?"

"Yes, sir," Erin replied, taking the seat with a small groan. "What is you needed to see me for?"

"I'd like you to go on SmackDown tonight," Mr. McMahon said without preface. "Just make a small statement to the crowd about who you are and why you're here. I really want the WWE universe to be familiar with you."

"Not a problem," Erin replied. "I'd be glad to."

"That was it," Mr. McMahon replied, returning to his files. "Good to see you, Erin."

"You too, sir," Erin called, levering herself up from the chair and leaving. Beth was waiting in their double, laying out her uniform. She swore, spotting a rip along her seam.

"The fitters are going to kill me," Beth groaned. "They told me I need to start taking better care of my stuff, or they're not fixing it anymore." Erin shook her head, laughing.

"Toss it over here," she called, reaching into her bag to pull out a small sewing kit. In response to Beth's questioning look, she added, "Marines have to be prepared for anything."

"You're a lifesaver, Erin," Beth replied, sighing with relief. "Thanks." Erin chuckled quietly, stitching the seam back together with quick, efficient movements. "So when did you start sewing?"

"You learn field medicine in the Marines, so I learned how to do stitches there," Erin replied, her eyes on the needle and thread. "And one of the medics taught us how to repair our clothes when we weren't on duty. We all took turn teaching."

"So that's where you taught guitar?" Beth asked.

"And learned ballroom dancing, and krav maga, and fencing," Erin confirmed, laughing. "We all shared our talents. It made it a little more manageable." Beth smiled, realizing that Erin had spoken about her time in the war without anything other than nostalgia and happiness. "All done!" She handed over Beth's newly-repaired costume, and Beth grabbed it quickly to get changed.

"I'm going to be late, I'm going to be late," she worried, hopping on one foot as she stepped into the costume.

"Ride with me," Erin suggested with a mischievous grin. "I can get you there in no time." Beth looked up, intrigued, grabbing her bag.

"Let's go," she agreed, and Erin's grin turned wicked. Leading Beth down to the basement garage, she handed over the extra helmet.

"Hold on tight," Erin warned, fastening her own helmet, revving the engine before peeling out. They wove in and out of traffic en route to the stadium, Beth clinging tightly to Erin's waist and laughing giddily all the while. Her tires squealed as they whipped into a parking space, both girls sprinting as fast as they could while laughing.

"Teddy Long's office is that way," Beth called, pointing. "Meet me in the greenroom when you're done, or just ask one of the guys to help you find me."

"Good luck!" Erin called after her friend, heading quickly down the hallway to the General Manager's office. She knocked and peeked her head in, smiling as she saw Mr. Long.

"Welcome to SmackDown, Ms. Harris," Teddy said, reaching out to shake her hand. "Vince informed you'd be stopping by."

"It's a pleasure to be here, Mr. Long," Erin replied firmly. "Please, call me Erin."

"As long as you call me Teddy," he requested, and Erin nodded. "Vince would like you to make a short statement, just introducing yourself to the fans so that you're familiar across the brand."

"Of course," Erin agreed. "At the beginning of the show?"

"That's right," Teddy replied. "I think wardrobe wants to see you, though. Since you're not in a match, they can actually dress you. Don't worry—they'll let you have some say." Erin grinned at that, shaking Teddy's hand once more. "I'll see you around, I'm sure."

"Thank you," Erin replied, closing the door behind her. Remembering John's tour, she trotted down to the basement.

"Can we help you?" an older, matronly woman asked politely.

"I'm Erin Harris—Teddy Long sent me," Erin said hesitantly. "He said I needed to come see you before I went out tonight?"

"That's right—you're the new girl from Raw," she replied cheerfully. "Sherry Klein, at your service. May I say, I loved your match against Randy on Monday. I promise not to put you in a dress. Or a skirt."

"Thank you," Erin said gratefully. "What were you thinking?"

"Jeans and a cute top," Sherry replied. "I assumed you were a size three—am I right?"

"Right on the nose," Erin replied, accepting the neatly-folded pair of jeans Sherry offered her.

"Now, I didn't take you for a girly-girl, so I've got this for you to try on, and a pair of fingerless leather gloves that I just fell in love with," Sherry chattered. "Go ahead and try that on." Erin smiled, amused, ducking behind a curtain to pull on the jeans. The shirt was a fitted red tee emblazoned with the cover of The Clash's "London Calling" album, and Erin grinned as she flexed her hands inside the gloves.

"You're amazing," she informed Sherry, who batted the compliment away with a wave of her hand. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, anytime, dear," Sherry promised. "Now, you go on out there."

"Yes, ma'am," Erin replied, saluting. Sherry laughed as Erin left, and Erin couldn't help but smile. She was still beaming as she reached the space behind the ramp, and one of the soundboard operators tossed her a microphone. Steve waved to her from the pyrotechnics booth, and Erin waved back, taking a deep breath as the soundboard operators switched her music on. She stepped out to reserved applause that grew louder and more enthusiastic as several of them began to recognize her from Raw. She still made sure to high-five every hand she saw before bouncing enthusiastically into the ring.

"Hey, San Francisco," she called, taking a perch on the top rope and waving cheerfully. "I'm so glad to be here tonight. Teddy Long asked me to come out and say hi, and I have to say, I don't mind at all. It's a real pleasure to come out before such an awesome crowd, so how y'all doing tonight?" The crowd's answer was a resounding "good," and Erin grinned. "I'm really just here to introduce myself, since I'm so new to the WWE. You've probably heard my story by now, so you know about how Randy and I have a history. But I'm not here just to get revenge, or anything. I'm a Marine. I can't stand injustice, or prejudice, or ignoring the wrongs in the world. And if that means that I'm going to piss off some of the most dangerous wrestlers in the WWE—I'm entirely okay with that." The crowd cheered loudly, and Erin smiled. The speakers blared once more, and this time, it was Rey Mysterio's music that blasted through the stadium. Erin hopped down from the ropes easily, her smile broadening as she saw that Alia was holding her father's hand. She held the bottom rope down as Rey passed Alia into the ring before joining them, and the little girl hugged Erin. Erin lifted her, laughing, and Alia pulled a rolled-up drawing from her pocket.

"I made this for you!" she announced proudly, handing over a surprisingly detailed sketch of Rey and Erin in the ring, hands raised high by the referee, with Alia perched on her father's shoulders.

"It's beautiful, ameerah," Erin replied honestly, hugging Alia tightly. "Thank you!"

"Good evening, San Francisco!" Rey called, and the stadium nearly shook with the cheers that rose from the crowd. Rey waited until the noise died down, smiling. "I know you guys are a little hesitant to welcome a newbie, so I'd like to show you something from this week's Superstars." He pointed at the 'Tron as footage of Alia, cornered by Luke Gallows backstage, came up. Erin hoisted Alia onto her shoulders, watching the entirety of the events from Superstars. Alia ruffled Erin's hair, and Erin smiled up at her before setting her down carefully. "So I'd take Miss Harris at her word when she says that she won't stand for any kind of crap around here. I know my daughter and I sure do."

"Thanks, Rey," Erin said quietly.

"Anytime, Erin," Rey replied, equally quiet, reaching out to shake her hand. As Erin exited the ring, the applause was noticeably louder, and she waved once more before leaving.

Backstage, she was met by Layla and Michelle McCool, shadowed by Vicki Guerrero.

"Can I help you?" Erin asked politely.

"You're friends with Beth Phoenix, right?" Michelle asked.

"We went to high school together," Erin replied by way of explanation. "She's always been a good friend to me."

"You'll want to stay away from her," Vicki advised. "It can be hard in this business without the right sort of friends." She offered her hand to Erin, who raised her eyebrows.

"I think I can figure out the right sort for myself, thanks," she replied coolly. "And in case it wasn't clear enough, I mean that you're the wrong sort." Layla and Michelle huffed angrily, and Vicki Guerrero looked venomous. "Toodles!" Erin walked off with a mocking wave.

She into a hysterically-laughing Matt Hardy as she rounded the corner.

"I knew you were awesome when you took on Randy Orton, but that was hilarious," he informed her, grinning. He extended his hand. "Matt Hardy."

"Nice to meet you," Erin replied, smiling wryly.

"I saw how you helped Rey, too," he added. "You didn't have to, but it was sweet." Erin shrugged, embarrassed. "Want to come meet some of the other guys on SmackDown? If you're visiting Beth, you'll be seeing us pretty often anyway." Erin raised an eyebrow, and he realized how it sounded. "I mean we're always around on SmackDown. Come on. I'll introduce you to the good ones."

"Alright," Erin agreed, following him.

"Sadly, you've already been introduced to CM Punk and the Straight Edge Society, but we're not all that bad, really," Matt went on, holding open the door to the locker room for her. Two guys were going at it on the floor, and a second pair of guys sat on the couch, laughing. A girl stood behind them, shaking her head, exasperated. "Hey, guys." The guys in the room all turned, and Erin smiled shyly.

"Hi," she said awkwardly, waving.

"Guys, I know you all saw Erin out there before," Matt introduced. "Erin, that's John Morrison and R-Truth. And the two trying to knock each others' blocks off are David Hart Smith and Tyson Kidd. And the one smart one in the room is Natalya, who has somehow managed to avoid the idiocy of her cousin and boyfriend."

"It comes of being a girl," Natalya replied, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Erin."

"Pleasure's all mine," Erin replied, and her smile matched Natalya's. "You guys were amazing at Wrestlemania, by the way. I've always loved watching Bret work."

"Who doesn't?" John asked. Tyson grinned at him before tackling David once more, and Natalya shook her head. "Nice work on Randy, by the way."

"Thanks," Erin said shyly. "I can't wait to see you guys take down Big Show and the Miz tonight. I'm really excited to watch. Natalya, who are you guys facing tonight?"

"Serena's making her in-ring debut—we're wrestling the Straight Edge Society," Natalya explained. Erin grinned.

"Now that I will enjoy," she laughed.

"Why don't you come down with us?" Natalya suggested impulsively. "We're up next, and we could always use somebody to watch our backs."

"Sure!" Erin agreed, surprised.

"Boys!" Natalya bellowed, and Tyson and David sprung apart. "Match time. Let's go." Erin laughed. "You can't wear that, though." Erin looked up, startled. "We're black and pink—do you mind matching?"

"I'm not a huge pink fan, but alright," Erin acquiesced. Natalya dug a cropped black motorcycle jacket and a pink Hart Dynasty tee from her locker, which Erin quickly ducked into a bathroom stall to put on. "How do I look?" Natalya smiled.

"Fantastic," she replied. "Let's go." David politely offered his arm to her as Tyson took Natalya's hand, leading the way down to the ring. The familiar Hart Dynasty entrance theme rang out as they stepped onto the ramp.

"Entering the ring, from Calgary, Alberta, Canada, the Hart Dynasty—David Hart Smith, Tyson Kidd, and the lovely Natalya," Jim Ross announced. "Accompanying them to the ring, from Monday Night Raw, Erin Harris!" Erin waved as Natalya darted out in front, indicating her tag team partners proudly. David and Tyson lifted her onto the ring apron, holding the ropes down for her to climb in. They gestured for Erin to enter before they would, and Erin grinned, running up to dive through the ropes and roll to her feet next to Natalya. David and Tyson hailed the crowd from atop the corner ropes, and Erin saluted from the center of the ring as Natalya waved to the crowd.

"And making their way to the ring, the team of CM Punk, Luke Gallows, and Serena, the Straight Edge Society," Jim went on. The crowd booed, and Erin couldn't help but grin before ducking out of the ring to stand ringside.

The match was a long and torturous one. Natalya gave Serena a thoroughly warm welcome to the ring, hitting her with a discus clothesline and a snap suplex before putting her in a sharpshooter that CM Punk grabbed Serena's wrists to pull her out of. David went up against Luke Gallows, slamming him with a German suplex and a brainbuster before nailing the running powerslam, but Luke managed to roll away and tag CM Punk in. Tyson tagged in for a roundhouse kick and a springboard elbow drop. He tagged David in one last time, and David hoisted Punk up for Tyson to perform a flying clothesline that flattened CM Punk. David held him down for the pin, and the match was over. Erin bounced into the ring, hoisting Natalya's hand high as the referee raised David's and Tyson's hands.

"Congratulations!" she whispered, leaning over to speak directly into Natalya's ear. "You guys earned that." David and Tyson helped both girls out of the ring, and Natalya smiled proudly as they walked up the ramp.

"Come celebrate with us?" Natalya offered. "I know my tee was a little big, but we could stop back at the hotel, or Tiffany could lend you something to wear."

"I'd love to, but I'm absolutely wiped," Erin replied regretfully. "Can I take a raincheck? I'd really love to hang out with you guys sometime."

"No problem," Natalya replied, smiling. "Hey—you gave Beth a ride, right? We'll make sure she gets back to the hotel."

"Thanks!" Erin called. Natalya hugged her quickly, and Erin shook hands with David and Tyson before waving one last time on her way out.

* * *

A/N: A somewhat long-ish chapter, I know. I should warn you that I will have Raw characters popping up on SmackDown, and vice versa, but I'll try my best to have a legitimate reason for those occurrences. In the same vein, I should add that a few characters will be a little OOC, there'll be a few more original characters, and I will reference events that actually happen in the WWE on occasion. Thanks again to everybody who's taken the time to review-it really means so much to me. Keep on reading and reviewing, please!


	9. Hold On to Your Memories

Monday came around soon enough, and the superstars cheered, grinning, as Erin pulled out her guitar backstage.

"Ready to play for the crowd?" Evan teased. Erin shook her head.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied. "Stephanie said I'm supposed to open the show, so I have to get out there." Somehow, despite the attitude inherent in her cargo pants, combat boots, and US Marines t-shirt, she managed to look nervous.

"You'll do great," John promised, and Erin flashed him a grateful smile.

"Wish me luck, boys," she called, waving to them as she left. The soundboard operators looked up as she neared the ramp, grinning.

"We told Steve to hold off on the pyrotechnics," they informed her. "Have fun!" Erin smiled, stepping out onto the ramp. The crowd looked surprised, not having heard any music, but Erin continued down the ramp, high-fiving the hands that reached over the barriers as she went. The crowd looked at her curiously, and Erin grinned wryly as she ducked into the ring, sliding her guitar in carefully.

"You're probably wondering why I've got my guitar," she remarked, taking a seat on the top rope—guitar in one hand, microphone on a stand in front of her. "So after last week's Raw, we were all hanging out, playing truth or dare. I was given the option of an unknown punishment or playing 'Hey Jude' in front of the entire crowd tonight before my match, and I think you may be able to guess what I chose."

"Mike, I pray to God she's nothing like Jillian," Jerry commented. Erin glanced over at him, smiling.

"I don't think I'm all that good a singer, but I can guarantee I'm not that bad," she promised. "Besides, I know I can play guitar, so at least half of this performance should be good." Erin settled her guitar, glancing down. "I'll try not to disappoint."

The crowd was uncharacteristically silent as she began to play, still looking down. In the stadium's wide-open space, the plaintive notes of the guitar echoed softly. Her voice was sweet and pure, and the song suited it perfectly. There was silence as she sang, and silence for a moment after she finished. Erin set the guitar down, looking up shyly. She had just glanced toward the ramp, biting her lip, ready to leave, when the stadium erupted in applause.

"I'd say that was every bit as good as Jillian is bad!" Jerry called over the roar of the crowd. Erin rose, waving to the crowd, her smile restored. She handed the guitar over to the ring attendant as she tugged her t-shirt over her head, hanging it and her dog tags from the corner pole before pulling out her tape, managing, for once, to tape both wrists herself. She took a few experimental bounces off the ropes as CM Punk's entrance music rang out, and she turned to face him as he entered the ring, flanked by Luke Gallows and Serena, as ever.

"You've got a real pretty voice," he informed her, his smile sickly sweet and nearly sadistic. "It's almost a shame to shut you up." Erin shook her head, smiling wryly. "I don't know why Vince McMahon signed you to fight in the same ring as me, because you have no chance whatsoever."

"Is that so?" Erin asked politely, raising her eyebrows.

"I don't know if anyone's told you, but I am the savior of the WWE," CM Punk informed her, pacing the ring. "I am the leader of the Straight-Edge Society. Straight-Edge means that I do not drink, I do not smoke, I do not take drugs. I do nothing that would alter my reality. Straight-Edge means that I am better than you."

"Now, see, that bothers me just a little," Erin replied, shaking her head. "See, I don't smoke. I don't take drugs. I don't drink. In fact, I've been straight-edge since I joined the Marines, and I haven't taken anything stronger than Advil since then. I never thought it meant I was better than anyone. I always thought it meant I respected my body and myself, but that being straight-edge is a personal choice that you cannot force." CM Punk looked surprised by her statement, and Erin smiled sweetly. "Now, it's possible I might respect you more if your associates didn't attack nine-year-old girls, but that's a different matter entirely."

"Luke has realized the error of his actions," CM Punk retorted swiftly. "His actions were not condoned, and he will not repeat them."

"I should certainly hope not," Erin said politely. "Nonetheless, I believe we came here for a match. So are we going to fight, or are we going to preach?"

The referee motioned for the bell to be rung, and Erin ducked under Punk's quick swing to drive an elbow into his kidney. He stumbled away, clutching his back, and Erin charged him. He turned quickly, catching her in a bearhug hold, and she struggled to breathe in. Wriggling her arms free, she clapped both hands over his ears, disorienting him, before jumping as high as she could, bringing her elbow down on his shoulder. Punk staggered backwards before charging once more, and she dropped to her hands and knees, snapping one foot up and catching his abdomen. He flew over her, nearly falling out of the ring before catching himself. Erin waited carefully for him to come at her once more, and he feinted left before lunging right and catching her in a lariat takedown. Erin shook her head, trying to clear it, and Punk dragged her into a headlock. Erin gasped for air once more, rolling backwards with all her strength to drive both feet into Punk's shoulders. When they rose, Erin quickly dropkicked him, sending him staggering backwards. She quickly climbed to the top rope, waiting for him to come at her. When he did, she bounced off the top rope, catching Punk with a springboard hurricanrana. He lay stunned on the mats, and Erin climbed to the top rope once more, performing her signature G.I. Jane for the pin.

The bell rang out as the referee raised her hands high.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Jerry called gleefully. "Your winner, Erin Harris!" Erin smiled, waving to the crowd. Suddenly, a crashing noise caught her attention, and she turned to see that Luke Gallows had taken her guitar and smashed it on the announcers' table.

"You son of a bitch," Erin whispered, enraged. "You goddamn son of a bitch!" She suicide dove out of the ring, catching Luke by surprise and knocking him into the barrier, her expression well beyond murderous. "Do you have any idea what you just did? I bought this with the first money I ever earned. It saved me from an alcoholic father. I took it to goddamned _Iraq _and played it to keep my squad sane, and you think you can fucking smash it because I beat your pathetic asswipe of a savior?" She punctuated each statement with a blow to his head, and she shoved him over the barrier, disgusted. As she went to climb over the barrier, fully prepared to beat him senseless, Mike and Jerry caught her arms. It took two more referees to hold her back, and they released her only when the tension drained out of her muscles.

"I'm going to kill him," she said, her voice deadly calm and ice cold. "Very slowly. And very painfully." With CM Punk's help, Luke Gallows managed to rise, staggering out of the stadium to a chorus of boos. Erin yanked her arms free of the restraining holds of the referees, carefully picking up every last piece of her guitar, even the strings. She left the stadium slowly, ignoring the slow chorus of claps as the crowd rose in solidarity, keeping her head down so that no one could see that she was crying.

Once backstage, she stumbled blindly through the hallways, nearly falling as she tripped through her door. She collapsed on the couch, heedless of the splinters embedding themselves in her palms as she dropped the pieces of her guitar. She heard the door open and looked up quickly, seeing John. She glanced around, realizing that she wasn't in her locker room but his.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, mortified, struggling to her feet. "I thought it was my room—" John placed her gently but firmly back on the couch.

"I saw what happened," he told her.

"I'm sorry—" she managed. John shook his head.

"Hold still," was all he said, taking out a pair of tweezers and beginning to remove the splinters. Erin stared into space, seemingly not noticing.

"Nine months," she said quietly. John looked up from her hands, searching her face for an answer. "That's how long I was a prisoner of war. Nine months." John stayed silent, letting her talk. "They did all the standard techniques—everything that's just barely legal by the Geneva Convention. Then they moved to war crimes tactics. First shocks, then burns, then cutting. Most of the scars are covered by my tattoos. Then they moved to human rights offenses. I was raped as often as they could find someone to do it. Or something." She took a deep, shuddering breath, refusing to look at John for fear that she'd see pity or revulsion in his yes. She wasn't sure which would be worse. "God only knows why, but they let me keep my guitar. I played it, whenever my hands were untied. When I was being raped, I stared at it, trying to pretend that I was playing. It held the pain off for a while."

"Erin—" John started gently. Erin shook her head, still not looking up.

"Before that, I played for my company," she went on. "I taught seven men how to play guitar. Four of them are dead. The other three were on my squad, and not one of them will ever play again. Ronnie lost four fingers to shrapnel, Chris lost an arm when a convoy hit an IED, and Mike got hit in the head the day we left. If it hadn't been for his helmet, he'd be dead. As is, his nerve damage is so severe on his left side that he'll be at a desk job for the rest of his life. When it got bad, and I couldn't remember why I was fighting anymore, I played for the dying. I played every request, every song, every memory. Before that, it saved my life—I went to the park and played it. Most days, I was there so long that my father would pass out before I was home." She tried to smile. "You probably think I'm ridiculous, crying over a guitar. I'm really sorry I stumbled in here."

"I'm not," John said firmly, and she looked up for the first time. There wasn't pity in his eyes, or disgust, or anything but compassion. "Thank you. For trusting me." He handed over a box of tissues, and Erin laughed weakly as she dried her cheeks. "And you're not crying over a guitar; you're crying over the memories. You're not going to lose them, alright? And we're going to fix this guitar."

Erin's smile was wobbly, but genuine, and John smiled in response.

"Let's go get some dinner," he encouraged, offering her a small box to place the remnants of her guitar in. He wrapped a friendly arm around her shoulders as they left, and Erin's smile became just a little brighter.

* * *

A/N: Aww…how sweet. In case you're incredibly oblivious and couldn't tell by now, yes, I'm going to put John Cena and Erin together at some point. Ted Dibiase and Beth Phoenix will also remain a pair, and there'll be a few background couples in there as well. Thanks for continuing to review, guys. I hope you know just how much it means to me. It's really validating to get reviews, so keep on reading and reviewing!


	10. Deal With the Pain

Erin's days fell into a predictable pattern. She'd rise at six, going for an hour-long run through whatever city they were in before her shower. Breakfast was at eight o'clock, and she played guitar or practiced piano until nine. She worked on computer programs until noon, writing codes and developing software to sell. Lunch was eaten alternately with Beth and the Divas or John and her fellow Raw superstars. She made sure to get to know everyone individually, but especially enjoyed her lunches with Natalya, Mickie, and Eve. Nikki and Brie Bella, at Beth's request, had taken it upon themselves to make sure she was comfortable on Raw, and the three found that they shared a love of soccer, leading to occasional afternoon parties spent with a bowl of popcorn and the latest soccer match on TV. Cody and Ted, once separated from Randy, proved to be far sweeter than she'd expected, and she was glad to have someone to geek out and play video games with. Evan and Rey made sure to help her with in-ring acrobatics, while Hunter and Shawn taught her holds that, lacking a wrestling background, she'd never learned. She bonded with John Morrison over classic rock bands, and when they found out that Christian shared their love of the same genre, started a weekly jam session to listen and play. Occasionally, Morrison even managed to convince R-Truth to join them. Afternoons, however, were always devoted to training—kajukenbo with John, weightlifting with the superstars, and ring practice until dinner. The entire Raw roster ate dinner together, occasionally joined by wrestlers from SmackDown. After dinner, they played music, card games, or went out clubbing.

Some of the superstars went home when they could, but Erin just moved from hotel to hotel as they traveled, having no home of her own. Most of her belongings were in storage, except for those she shipped with her. She traveled by motorcycle, enjoying the time spent alone, and met up with the superstars whenever they arrived. She lost count of the number of superstars' houses she visited when they persuaded her to stay for the weekend, and but for the most part, she enjoyed being on the road. As for her matches, she won her fair share, making sure to take whatever lessons she could from the ones she lost—and she did lose her fair share as well.

"Erin!" Beth bellowed. Erin stuck her head out of the bedroom of her hotel suite.

"What?" she demanded.

"Vince wants to see you before the show to tell you who your match is against," Beth replied. "He wants you at the stadium early, so you might want to head out soon." Erin sighed, slipping into her cargo pants and US Marines tee quickly.

"I'll see you later," Erin called, grabbing her bag and keys before taking her motorcycle over to the stadium. The stadium had already begun to fill, and Erin had to duck backstage quickly to avoid being seen. Mr. McMahon was pouring over several files when she entered, but he looked up as soon as she knocked.

"Erin—good to see you," Mr. McMahon called. "Please, take a seat." Erin obeyed, waiting expectantly. "I know that you know Sheamus has been injured for some time, but he's been cleared to wrestle once more. Your match tonight will be against him, and I just wanted to give you a heads-up."

"Thank you," Erin replied, masking her surprise. "I'll go start getting ready, then." With that, she left, plugging in her headphones before beginning to warm up and get taped. Her time before the show seemed to fly by, and she didn't even remember stepping out onto the ramp. The roar of the crowd startled her back into awareness, and she hi-fived every hand within reach before saluting from the center of the ring, waiting for Sheamus to arrive. He stormed down to the ring, microphone in hand, and Erin watched with a crooked half-smile on her face.

"So I come back after weeks of injury, and I find that the WWE's new superstar is a girl," Sheamus remarked scathingly. "You don't look like much, lassie. And as much as I could say about fighting a girl, I'll restrain myself for the sake of time."

"Why, thank you," Erin replied, batting her lashes. "And may I say, thank you for lighting up the ring so brightly. I mean, the way the light's reflecting off your skin right now, I feel like I'm in the spotlight." The crowd laughed as Sheamus glared at her, and Erin smiled before going on. "And since I'm the new girl on the block, I brought you a present. Here you go." She tugged a massive bag of Cheetos from her pocket, tossing them to him. Sheamus caught them instinctively.

"Now what makes you think I'd enjoy something like this, lassie?" he demanded.

"Well, you just always have that trail of Cheetos powder all along your jaw and under your mouth," Erin replied innocently, indicating his beard. "So I thought they must be your favorites." Sheamus glared at her, seemingly speechless, and Erin smiled sweetly. "They can be your consolation prize after you lose this match." With that, she shrugged off her jacket and t-shirt, kissing her dog tags before handing them over to the ringside attendant. She took up her post at the corner, waiting for the bell to ring. When it did, Sheamus charged her immediately, enraged. Erin simply ducked out of the way, allowing him to strike the corner post full-force. She waited patiently for him to come at her again, dropping to the ground and slicing his ankles out from under him. He fell flat on his face, and Erin quickly rolled him over for the pin. Sheamus countered quickly, kicking out so hard that he sent her halfway across the ring. She shook her head, rising, but he speared with frightening speed, knocking her to the ground. Groggy, she looked up, seeing him ascending the corner ropes.

Erin rolled sideways just in time to avoid the force of his body as he went for a double axe handle, but the full weight of the blow landed on her forearm. There was a sickening crunch, and she screamed, pulling her arm against her body. The bone jutted out against her skin, and her wrist hung at an awkward angle. She crawled away from Sheamus as fast as she could, huddling against the corner ropes. He came at her once more, and she scrambled away, still clutching her arm. He rammed headfirst into the pole, stumbling backward.

"Get over here and fight," he growled. "This is a wrestling match, not an obstacle course!"

"You broke my arm," Erin retorted angrily, bracing said arm against her chest.

"So forfeit," Sheamus demanded.

"There's a snowflake's chance in hell of that happening," Erin managed, using the ropes to pull herself up. She held her arm as still as she could manage, standing as straight as she could. Sheamus came at her again, and she drove her foot into his jaw. He staggered backwards, and she continued her assault, spinning to drive kick after kick into his ribcage. He fell after a second kick to the temple, and Erin dropped onto him, managing to grip one leg for the pin.

Erin dimly heard the referee's three-count, and rolled off of him, barely breathing, as soon as the bell rang. She slid out of the ring, staggering toward the ramp. The EMTs reached her first, and she flinched away from their touch.

"Miss Harris, let me see your arm," the first ordered her, coaxing it away from her chest.

"This will hurt," the second warned, setting the bone quickly. Erin screamed again, gasping for air as her arm was splinted and wrapped. "And you'll need to go to the hospital. Is there anyone you'd like to have come with you?"

"No one," Erin gasped. "I can go myself."

"I'll come," John Cena said quickly, coming over. He handed her the dog tags, and she fumbled to clasp them one-handed. He fixed them himself, and draped her jacket over her shoulders. "Beth would kill me if I let you go by yourself."

Erin nodded, and he wrapped a protective arm about her waist. Erin winced as every step jarred her arm, pausing. John looked down at her, concerned. Seeing the pain written clearly across her face, he lifted her wordlessly, scooping her into his arms and holding her against his chest. The crowd rose in solidarity, applauding them as they left.

Outside, the EMTs helped her into the ambulance, and John took a seat next to her.

"We'd give you a painkiller, but the doctor will want to examine you unmedicated," the first EMT apologized.

"Just squeeze my hand when it hurts," John offered, taking her hand in his. "We'll be there soon."

"Thank you," Erin whispered, biting her lip against the pain before beginning to squeeze John's hand. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, holding her tightly. The hospital was only minutes away, and she did her best to shut out the pain, closing her eyes tightly and breathing shallowly. When they arrived, John refused to let the EMTs touch her, carrying her in himself. The emergency room was, for once, almost empty, and she was given a bed immediately.

"Miss Harris?" the doctor called, peering around the curtains, which John had drawn for privacy. "I'm Doctor Rodriguez. The EMTs gave me your chart—broken arm?"

"Luckily, this is the arm I hadn't broken before," Erin replied, trying to smile. "My other arm's already got steel pins in it."

"Your arms don't like you very much, do that?" John teased quietly. Erin giggled, and the doctor unwrapped her splint, replacing it with a glove-like stocking and wrapping her arm from elbow to wrist with a soft roll of padding.

"Would you like any particular color for your cast?" Doctor Rodriguez asked.

"Do you have green?" Erin asked. Doctor Rodriguez nodded, pulling a roll of fiberglass bandage from a cabinet under the bed.

"Hold as still as you can, please," he requested. Beginning to wrap the bandage, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Yes?" Erin replied, puzzled.

"Miss Harris, I have to ask," the doctor said, somewhat hesitantly. "Are you now, or have you ever been, a victim of domestic abuse?" He glanced nervously at John, uncertain.

Erin couldn't help but laugh, and John smiled as well. Doctor Rodriguez smoothed and molded the cast, raising his eyebrows

"I'm a Marine," she explained, smiling. "And I'm on the professional wrestling circuit." The doctor appeared relieved at her answer, if rather surprised.

"Well, you won't be wrestling for the next six weeks," he informed her. ""Come back then, and we'll cut the cast off."

"Thank you," Erin said, shaking the doctor's hand with her uncasted hand. John helped her slide into her jacket before grabbing his own.

"I almost forgot!" the doctor exclaimed. He pulled out a prescription pad and a pen. "I'm giving you a prescription for Vicodin. It's a potent painkiller, so I'm recommending no more than two per day."

"I won't need it," Erin replied. "I'd rather not dull my senses if I can help it."

"If you're sure," the doctor acquiesced, returning the pad and pen to his pocket. "Good luck with your wrestling career."

Erin nodded, and John helped her out.

"So do I get to be the first to sign your cast?" John asked, leaning forward to murmur the question directly into her ear. Erin started, surprised. "Sorry. So do I get to sign it?"

"No scaring me like that anymore, and yes, you can," she replied, smiling. "You got a pen?" John snatched a marker off of the entrance desk, taking her cast carefully. "What are you going to write?"

"Dear…G.I….Jane," John wrote slowly, grinning up at her quickly before returning his attention to the cast. "Randy hates your stinking guts. Sheamus makes me vomit. They are like scum between your toes. Get better soon, so you can shut them up. Love, the Champ." Erin dissolved into giggles as John capped the marker, and John grinned. "Good. I made you laugh."

"Did you really just use Little Rascals as your inspiration for signing my cast?" Erin asked, still laughing.

"You bet I did," he replied proudly, and Erin shook her head.

"Thanks for taking me here," she replied, following him as they wandered out of the hospital. "Any idea how we're getting back?"

"Pretty sure your motorcycle's out of the question for a while, so I'll call a cab," John replied. Erin frowned as she realized that her primary means of transportation would now be off-limits for the next six weeks. John hailed a cab as they waited, placing his coat over her shoulders as he noticed that she was shivering.

"Thanks," she replied softly, smiling.

"Anytime," John promised, genteelly opening the cab door for her. "So are you going to able to sleep tonight with that thing?"

"Probably not," Erin replied, shrugging. "But the view from the roof of the hotel is pretty good, so I might watch the stars for a while. Want to come?"

"Sure," John replied agreeably, shrugging, as the cab rumbled down the street back to the hotel. John made sure to tip the cabbie generously as they left. "I didn't know you were into astronomy." Erin was quiet as they climbed to the roof, and Erin took a seat against the roof's edge.

"I never had a chance to learn the names of the constellations or anything," she said softly. "But over in Iraq, we started naming them after guys in our company. Like that one—that one was Colin, because Colin was always playing at swordfights with the children, and it looks like a guy with a sword."

"That's Orion," John replied, sketching the outline with his finger. Erin glanced over at him, surprised. John smiled. "I'm full of surprises."

"So surprise me some more," Erin teased.

"Tell me some of the ones you've named, and I'll let you know what they are," John suggested.

"Alright," Erin said slowly. She pointed to a w-shaped constellation. "That one. We named it after Dan, because he was such a big Walt Disney fan."

"Cassiopeia," John replied. "She was a Greek queen who was willing to sacrifice her own daughter to save her people." Erin indicated a small group of stars arranged close together.

"That one we didn't name after anybody—it looked like an explosion," she went on. "We called it the gogglefuck." John snorted with laughter.

"That's the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters," he replied. "They became stars because they couldn't stand the loss of their father, Atlas."

"There was this one kid in one of the villages—we treated him as best we could, but he'd lost his leg, and gangrene did him in," Erin said, smiling reminiscently. "He was wickedly good with a slingshot. So we named that one after him—Kareem."

"That's actually Canis Major," John informed her. "It's supposed to be one of Orion's hunting dogs. So did they ever name one after you?"

"Nope," Erin replied, shrugging. "They said my head was on the ground, not in the clouds."

"That's odd," John said. "Because I'd pick that one for you—Draco, the dragon." Erin blushed slightly, pointing to the Big Dipper.

"That's the one I know—Ursa Major," she said quietly. "With Polaris, the guiding star. That one's you."

"I do what I can," John replied, turning on his side. Erin was staring up at the sky, eyes distant, and John slipped her hand into his carefully. Erin didn't look over at him, but a soft smile touched her lips, and John kept silent rather than speak and ruin the moment.

* * *

A/N: Yay for fluffiness! And I definitely put a little bit of myself in each chapter and character, and this chapter gets my love of the night sky. Also, I just watched Little Rascals, so I did bastardize that line for Erin's cast-signing. Hope you enjoyed. Read and review, please!


	11. Don't Let Go of Your Family

Erin continued to work out as best she could one-armed, avoiding aerial moves but practicing left-armed holds. She wasn't sure which was harder—not being able to ride her motorcycle, or not being able to play her guitar—but managed as best she could, playing a lot of one-handed piano and catching rides with the other superstars.

"So how about tonight?" Beth asked, joining her in their hotel suite. "Are you coming out with us?"

"I'm actually heading home to see my cousin Megan," Erin replied. "She's like my little sister, honestly. I can't wait to see her. She makes a mean chicken pot pie, too."

"Alright," Beth shrugged. "I'll see you in a few days, then, I guess." Erin nodded, slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder.

"Bye, Beth," Erin called. She waved one last time, nearly running into John as she stepped out of the door.

"Sorry," John said quickly. "I brought you the keys—just don't wreck my baby, alright?"

"I would mock you for calling your Mustang your baby, but it's an awesome car and I do the same thing to my motorcycle," Erin informed him, smiling crookedly. "Thanks again for letting me borrow it. Her. Him?"

"Her," John confirmed.

"Got it," Erin agreed, accepting the keys.

"I'll help you load her up," John added, taking her bag from her shoulder.

"A free car _and_ bellhop service?" Erin asked, mock-surprised. "In all seriousness, though, I owe you big-time."

"I know you're good for it," John replied, popping the trunk with a smile and placing her bag inside. "Have a safe trip, alright?" Erin hugged him impulsively, and he returned the gesture, somewhat surprised. He opened the door for her, allowing her to climb in easily, and Erin's smile turned mischievous as the engine roared to life. She waved once more as he shut the door, and pulled carefully out of the parking lot.

Megan Elizabeth Harris—who insisted on being called Meg—was Erin's favorite cousin. Although Meg was two years younger, she was mature enough for her age that the two of them had grown up treating each other like sisters. An elementary teacher, Meg lived in a quiet suburb of Philadelphia. As the WWE was in Harrisburg, the trip wasn't terribly long—only a few hours. Erin couldn't help but smile as she pulled into the familiar driveway of Meg's house, the asphalt still permanently stained from the paints they'd used on it as children.

Erin honked the horn as she pulled in, and Meg came flying out. But for her red hair and taller stature, Meg could have been Erin's twin. Erin jumped out of the car as soon as it was parked, hugging her favorite cousin tightly.

"Hey, Meg," she smiled, and Meg laughed as she finally let her cousin go.

"Let me get your bag and bring it inside," Meg offered, overriding Erin's protests and grabbing the bag from the trunk. "The pot pie's all done, and I already set out both Star Wars trilogies, so we can start watching right away."

"And this is why you're my favorite cousin," Erin announced, grinning as she followed Meg inside. The two brought their dinners out into the living room, situating themselves on the couch and propping their feet up in identical movements, sending them into fits of giggles. "Are we going chronologically, or in order they were made?"

"Chronologically, of course!" Meg replied, grinning, popping the movie in.

"A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," they intoned, having long-since memorized all six movies. Meg got up only once during the movie, grabbing Ben and Jerry's from the freezer and handing a container to Erin wordlessly.

"Republic credits?" Meg quoted. "Republic credits are no good out here. I need something more real."

"I don't have anything else, but credits will do just fine," Erin quoted back at her cousin, waving her hand as, on-screen, Liam Neeson made the same motion.

"No, they won't," Meg replied gleefully.

"Credits will do fine," Erin insisted, waving her hand again. The girls cracked up, nearly falling over as they laughed. Suddenly, Meg screamed as the door was kicked open, and Erin instinctively jumped in front of her cousin. Randy Orton stood in her cousin's doorway, smiling viciously.

"You're really crossing this line, Randy?" Erin demanded, her voice ice cold and furious. Behind them, the movie continued to play.

"You're injured, and she doesn't look like she'll do much damage," Randy replied. "Yes. I'm crossing that line."

"You _really_ don't want to do this," Erin informed him.

"Really?" Randy asked. "Because I'm not Sheamus, and I'm more than capable of taking you down."

"With a broken arm," Erin drawled insolently. "How incredibly brave of you." Randy shrugged, staring at them menacingly.

"You've got nothing right now, and you know it," he hissed. Erin reached into the back of her waistband, drawing a 9mm M9 pistol from her belt.

"I've got this," she replied tightly. "I'm always carrying, Randy. And don't you think for a second that I can't shoot left-handed, because I trained my left hand extra after you broke my arm. Twice. And any cop will take one look at your history, and the kicked-in door, and know that I'm just defending myself and my cousin."

"This isn't over," Randy growled. Erin clicked the safety off, her face grim. Randy backed out of the door slowly, and Erin didn't lower her gun until she heard his car pulling away. Megan looked at her older cousin, eyes wide.

"Is that—_the_ Randy?" Megan asked, stuttering, her voice shaky. Erin nodded.

"Pack up a bag," Erin ordered her. "You're coming with me until we get an order of protection against him and an upgraded security system on your house." Megan obeyed wordlessly, and Erin began packing a second suitcase for her cousin.

"How are we getting back?" Megan called, shoveling jewelry and cosmetics into her bag. "I mean—your arm's still broken, isn't it?"

"John leant me his Mustang, and I did fine on the way here; let's go," Erin replied, keeping her gun in hand as she veritably dragged Megan out the door, tossing her bags and suitcase into the back before ushering Megan into the passenger seat. She roared out of the driveway, flipping open her phone and dialing John's number quickly.

"Hey, John, it's Erin," she said. "No—no, I got here just fine, don't worry. Randy broke into the house, though." She held the phone away from her ear for a moment, wincing at the volume of the angry shout that came through the phone. "Calm down. We're fine. I'm bringing Meg back to the hotel with me. We're on our way now—no, I'm not letting her out of my sight until her security system gets an upgrade and she gets a restraining order against Randy. Alright. I'll see you in a few hours. Thanks again." She closed the phone, flipping it back open just as quickly. "Beth? Hey, it's Erin. I've got Megan with me, and we're on our way back to the hotel. Randy broke into her house. Can you see if anybody's got an air mattress I can sleep on? She can have my b—or you could just use this an excuse to sleep in Ted's room, yes. Fine. Thanks, Beth."

"Everything okay?" Meg asked, concerned. Erin chuckled dryly, amazed that her cousin—whose house had just been broken into by a man she didn't even know—was trying to make sure she was okay.  
"We've got a room all set up for you," Erin replied, shaking her head. "You can room with me. I'm really sorry to throw all this at you, but I don't know how far Randy'll go to get to me. I'm not going to let you get hurt in the process, but I can help you get a restraining order and charges fast-tracked. I've got a few friends in law enforcement."

"Okay," Meg agreed. "Thanks, Erin." Erin nodded, flipping open her phone for one last call.

"Hey, Connor," she said, smiling. "Yeah, it's good to hear your voice, too. Hey, are you still a cop out in Montgomery? That's perfect. You remember Randy Orton, right? He just tried to break into my cousin's house. Any chance you could start drawing up the paperwork? We can come in whenever you need us to." She paused for a moment, nodding her head as she listened. "Thanks so much, Connor. I'll see you soon." She turned to Meg once more, much of the tension gone from her face. "He told us we can come in whenever we want, so why don't we go tomorrow?"

"That sounds good," Meg replied, relieved. "Is that one of the guys from your squad?"

"That's Connor," Erin replied, nodding. "His nickname was Rubik—he could solve a Rubik's cube in under a minute. It was pretty cool to watch."

"I know you told me about what happened to you, but you never talked much about the guys in your squad—what were they like?" Meg asked, curious. Erin smiled reminiscently, remembering.

"Sergeant Colby O'Brian was our squad leader," she began. "We called him Sarge in front of the company, but he was Israel to us. He was the one who taught krav maga, which is the martial art the Israeli military uses. He'd been stationed in West Bank for a while, which was where he learned. His second-in-command was Corporal Ryan Davis—Blackbeard. He didn't actually have a beard, and his hair was actually red, but he lost an eye in a firefight and had to wear an eyepatch. His brother Mike was a Lance Corporal, but we just called him Tyson. He was a boxer. Taught us all how to throw a punch and how to take one."

"What was your nickname?" Meg asked, enraptured.

"I was G.I. Jane," Erin replied, grinning. "Occasionally, I was the Bionic Woman, because of the pins in my arm, or Doc, because I was the best at field dressings, or Baby Girl, when they were trying to piss me off." Meg laughed, and Erin smiled crookedly. "Nate Linden—he came up with that nickname. He had a younger sister, and said I reminded him of her. His nickname was Forest, because he had the most awkward running stride you'd ever seen, but he could run for days. Then there were Rob, Dave, and Ronnie. They all went to high school together. They were the Three Stooges. You never saw one without the other two, and any time there was a prank on base, you knew it was them. And Luke—he was the youngest in our squad. He was a big guy, though. Sometimes we called him Little John, but most of the time, he was Tiny. Chris was the best shot in our squad, so we called him Bullseye. And then Mark and Logan—the quietest guys in the crew. Mark was kind of small, so we called him Mighty Mouse, and Logan spoke ASL, so he was Hands."

"You really miss those guys, don't you?" Meg realized, and Erin nodded.

"They're all like my brothers," she replied. Meg fell silent for a while, and Erin realized that she had fallen asleep. She turned the music on just loud enough that she could hear it for the rest of the ride.

* * *

A/N: So here's two more OCs, and all of the guys in Erin's squad will pop up at some point in the story, don't worry. And I had to throw Star Wars in there at some point, so I just quoted one of my favorite parts! If you know which movie it's from and what part it describes, quote the next line and I'll give you either a special shout-out in my next note or a character cameo as a fan in an upcoming chapter :D Read and review, please!


	12. Don't Be Afraid

Erin managed to wake her cousin up just long enough to help her into bed. When both girls woke the next day, they were in the hotel, and Erin forwent her morning run, for once, to make sure her cousin was alright. Meg smiled sleepily as she rose, pulling a long, lightweight dress in a brilliant floral pattern from her bag.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Erin teased, tugging on jeans and a dark blue US Marines t-shirt. "You realize it's noon, don't you?"

"So it's good afternoon, then," Meg replied, slipping into the dress.

"Ready to head down for breakfast?" Erin asked. "The Divas invited us out for breakfast at IHOP. It's right down the road, so we can walk."

"Sounds good," Meg replied, yawning. "Just let me get ready." Erin waited patiently, making her bed with military precision and packing her bag until Meg got back. The two girls linked arms, bouncing down the stairs and out the door, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. When they reached the IHOP, they saw that the Divas had already grabbed a table.

"Hey, ladies," Erin called. "This is my cousin, Megan."

"Hi," Meg said shyly, half-hidden behind Erin.

"Randy broke into her house," Erin informed them. "She's traveling with me until her security system gets upgraded."

"He's not going to get anywhere need her," Gail promised. Beth and Kelly nodded grimly.

"I'll have security keep an eye on her while she's backstage," Stephanie promised.

"Stephanie's the daughter of Vince McMahon—the chairman of the WWE," Erin explained. "She's kind of powerful." Stephanie snorted.

"We ordered already," Beth informed her. "We thought pancakes would be safe."

"Always," Erin agreed, grinning. She pulled out a seat for her cousin before taking a seat herself. "Do you think that Meg could hang with you guys while I do my workout today?"

"No problem," Natalya promised. "Actually, I think Tyson and David already finished their workouts, so we'll have some muscle to watch out for her, too."

"That's Natalya Neidhart," Erin informed her cousin. "She took out Dolph Ziggler when he ambushed her cousin from behind. She's got a hell of an uppercut."

"You train in the Hart Dungeon, you have to learn something at some point," Natalya laughed, passing the pancakes as their meal arrived. "That, and David has a jaw of stone, so you better hit hard if you want do any damage."

"So are the boys joining us for breakfast?" Kelly asked. "I know Evan said workouts aren't until later this afternoon."

"I think we're at one o'clock today, since we're all planning to go see SmackDown," Erin agreed. "Would it be alright if Meg hung out with you guys while I'm at the gym?"

"We were planning to get our nails done this afternoon," Nikki offered, indicating her twin. "Why don't you come with us, Meg?"

"Sure!" Meg replied, surprised.

"I'm Brie, by the way," Brie offered, swallowing a mouthful of waffle. "And that's my twin sister Nikki."

"Nice to meet you," Meg replied, laughing slightly. "Thanks, by the way."

"Anytime," Nikki smiled. "We're always glad to help Erin. And piss off Randy. Nobody really likes him."

"Not in the least," Erin agreed. "I should really get over to the gym, and I need to grab my bag from my room first. Meg, will you be okay with the Divas?"

"Of course," Meg replied, smiling. "Have a good workout!"

Erin waved goodbye as she trotted out the door, praying that she wouldn't be late to the gym. Not half a block down the street, she caught sight of John carrying both his gym bag and hers.

"I figured you might need this," he called.

"How in the name of all things sacred did you get into my room?" Erin demanded.

"I can pick locks," John replied, shrugging.

"Can you teach me?" Erin asked eagerly, any trace of impatience gone. John laughed.

"You bet," he promised, handing over her bag. "Come on. Hunter gets pissy when people are late."

"Kajukenbo first?" Erin asked, following him into the gym.

"You bet," John replied. "What's the focus today?"

"Kung fu—we're going through forms," Erin replied. "Since I can actually do them without an arm."

"Sounds like a good deal," John shrugged. "Want to get changed?"

"I'll be out in five," Erin promised. She grabbed her t-shirt and shorts, changing quickly and joining John in an open yoga studio. Erin led John through the forms slowly, allowing him to learn them and flow from one to another seamlessly. "Now, stand facing me. We're going to do them at the same time. And no making faces at me this time."

"But it's so much fun to watch you crack up while you're trying to be serious," John protested, grinning. Erin wrinkled her nose at him, and John shook his head. "Fine. No faces." Erin smiled, and they bowed to each other before moving through the forms once more, going faster and faster until their hands and feet were blurs of motion.

"That was _awesome_!" Erin exclaimed as they finished, breathing a little heavily.

"Ready to lift?" John asked, catching his breath. "I know you can't do upper body, but there's plenty of lower body stuff you can do."

"Oh, joy," Erin grumbled, seeing the list of exercises he'd passed over.

"I think Cody and Evan are doing lower body lifting today," John said, ignoring her complaint. "Want to meet up with them to lift?"

"Alright," Erin replied reluctantly.

"Yo, Evan!" John called. "Can Erin get in on your circuit?"

"No problem," Evan replied, waving her over. "You ready?"

"Always," Erin teased. "Where to first?" The lower body circuit was a high-intensity, low-volume one: leg presses, lunges, leg curls, squats, calf raises, four-way hip motion, hip abduction, and hip adduction. Her weights, she was surprised to find, were only slightly less than those Cody and Evan were lifting, a fact of which she was rather proud.

"I'm impressed," Evan remarked. Erin grinned, and flexed her muscles proudly. "I'd offer to do more aerial-ropes training, but I don't think that's the best idea."  
"Probably not," Erin agreed amiably. "I'd rather not break my arm. Again."

"I really don't think that'd be good," Cody added.

"Nope," Erin replied cheerfully. "I'll let you guys go. Besides, I want to get back to my cousin."

"We heard about that," Evan said, his tone turning serious. "If there's anything we can do—if you want any of us to keep an eye on her—just let us know."

"Thanks, Evan," Erin replied, smiling gratefully. "That really means a lot. I'll see you guys later, alright?"

"Will you be at SmackDown?" Cody asked. Erin shook her head.

"I'm actually taking Meg back to Philly so that she can give her statement to the police," she replied. "I have to go ask John if I can borrow his car again, though."

"Take mine," Cody offered, tossing her a set of keys. "It's the silver '02 Aston Martin Vanquish." Erin's jaw dropped.

"Are you serious?" she managed. Cody laughed.

"I can catch a ride with Ted for tonight," he assured her. "Make sure your cousin's okay, alright?"

"Thanks, Cody," Erin replied sincerely, hugging him quickly. "I'll see you guys later."

In the parking lot, she ran a reverent hand over the hood of the Vanquish before daring to unlock it, hopping inside. The engine roared to life as she pulled out carefully, making it back to the hotel in minutes and catching sight of Brie, Nikki, and Meg as she did so.

"Hey, Erin!" Meg called. Erin grinned, waving.

"I've got a ride to get us back to Philly," she called back. "Want to grab your bag, in case we end up staying the night?"

"I'll be down in a minute," Meg promised, flashing her room key. Brie and Nikki joined her on the trip upstairs, making sure she arrived safely. True to her word, Meg was down in moments, hopping into the passenger seat. "This car is gorgeous."

"It's more than just gorgeous, sweetheart," Erin laughed. "It's an Aston Martin Vanquish—the car from Die Another Day and The Italian Job. And this thing can fly."

"I brought a CD for the ride," Meg offered, slipping it in. "You should like it—AC/DC, the Clash, and the Who."

"You've learned good taste somewhere," Erin teased. The two girls rolled down the windows and sang obnoxiously loud the whole way back to Philadelphia, receiving plenty of strange looks as they pulled into the police station parking lot. One officer, however, simply laughed as he heard the music, coming out to meet them. Erin nearly leapt out of the car in her haste to greet him.

"G.I. Jane!" he called. Erin laughed, beckoning Meg over.

"Hey, Connor," Erin said gratefully, as the taller man hugged her tightly. "Connor, this is my cousin, Meg. Meg, Connor."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Connor said immediately, shaking Meg's hand politely. "I've got all the paperwork you need to file charges and get a restraining order. Why don't we take a seat?"

"Thank you," Meg said quietly.

"Can you describe what happened?" Connor asked. "As the plaintiff, I need to hear your story before I hear that of any witnesses, like your cousin."

"We were watching a movie," Meg began, hesitant. Erin squeezed her cousin's hand reassuringly, and Meg went on. "Then our door was kicked in, and Mr. Orton was standing there. He made some threats, and then Erin drew her gun, and he left."

"Can you tell me what time that was?" Connor asked.

"About two o'clock AM," Meg replied.

"And Erin, you've got a license to carry a concealed weapon?" Connor went on. Erin handed it over wordlessly, allowing Connor to record her information. "Now, did Mr. Orton enter your house, or did he remain in the doorway?"

"In the doorway," Meg answered.

"Are you sure?" Connor asked. Meg nodded, as did Erin. "Damn. I can get him on criminal trespass and destruction of private property, but if he didn't come in, I can't charge him with attempted burglary or assault."

"How long will trespass and private property put him away for?" Meg asked

"About a month," Connor admitted. "But the restraining order can keep him away from you permanently, so I'll let you fill that out." He drew Erin aside as Meg began to file the restraining order. "I'm sorry I couldn't get him for more than that."

"It's alright, Connor," Erin promised. "He'll be away for a while, and I'll get a crack at him when he comes back to the WWE."

"How's it going for you there, by the way?" Connor asked, curious. "I've been watching, and I have to say, you're pretty impressive. Not that any of us are surprised." In response to her wondering look, he added, "The guys and I all watch Monday Night Raw, and chat about it afterwards. Helps us catch up."

"I'm glad I help keep everybody together," Erin laughed. "And I think Meg's done, so I should get her back. She's staying with me until the restraining order goes through."

"Actually, I can have that fast-tracked too—it'll be filed before the end of the day, and I'll come pick Randy up myself if you guys don't mind me following you back," Connor offered. "And the door just got knocked off its hinges, so since Luke and Nate live so close, they came over and fixed it up. So Meg could go home tonight, if she wants."

"I want," Meg said immediately, and Erin grinned.

"I'll send a patrol car to check on you for the next few nights, but you really should be fine," Connor promised. "Ready to head home, then?"

"Absolutely," Meg agreed. Erin jingled the keys in her hand as Connor handed over the paperwork to a younger patrolman before following them outside.

"We'll drop you Meg off first, then head back to Harrisburg," Erin informed Connor. "Let's move out, troops!" Connor grinned wryly, throwing her a salute before hopping in his patrol car. "Ready, Meg?" Meg smiled, reaching out to hug her cousin tightly.

"Thank you so much, Erin," she whispered, holding Erin close. "I'm glad I got to see you, even if it was because a maniac came after us." Erin chuckled, hugging her younger cousin every bit as tightly.

"I am so sorry that he came after you because of me," she whispered. "But I'm not sorry in the least that I got to see you." The two girls got into Cody's car, and Meg cranked up the volume on the mix CD, blasting it out the open windows as they drove back to Meg's house.

"Your musical tastes haven't changed a bit, have they?" Connor asked as they pulled in, smiling slightly.

"Nope," Erin replied proudly, walking Meg to the door. "I promise I'll see you soon, Meg."

"You better," Meg threatened, though she smiled as she hugged Erin one last time. "Thank you again, Officer."

"It's just Connor, ma'am," Connor replied, shaking Meg's hand. Erin noticed with interest that he held onto her hand just a second too long, and hid a smile. "Alright, G.I. Jane. Lead the way to Harrisburg."

The trip back to Harrisburg was every bit as uneventful as Erin hoped it would be. When they pulled into the hotel parking lot, Connor's Pennsylvania State Police uniform drew a few questioning stares, but he ignored them. Instead, he followed Erin to the dining room, where they found Randy at a table in the corner.

"Randy Orton," Connor drawled. "It's been a long time."

"What do you want?" Randy snarled.

"Please stand up, Mr. Orton," Connor ordered, his tone becoming more professional. Randy did so, crossing his arms defensively. "Place both hands on top of your head and turn around slowly."

"Hell, no," Randy growled. Connor stepped forward, yanking Randy's hands behind his back and snapping the cuffs on him quickly.

"Randall Orton, you are under arrest for criminal trespass and destruction of private property," Connor informed him, practically dragging him outside. Erin followed, her smile triumphant. "You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" Randy didn't answer, and Connor shoved him into the back of the patrol car.

"I can't thank you enough, Connor," Erin said gratefully. "I know Meg will feel a lot safer now."

"Glad to help, Baby Girl," Connor replied, grinning. Erin smacked his arm, but hugged him nonetheless. "Hey—you have a good birthday, alright?" Erin looked surprised. "You forgot it's your birthday tomorrow, didn't you?"

"I guess I did," Erin replied, blushing slightly. Connor shook his head.

"I brought you a birthday present anyway," he informed her, handing over a small box. "Happy birthday, G.I. Jane." Erin opened the box, smiling as she saw the dragon charm on a silver chain.

"Thanks, Rubik," she replied, teasing. Connor winked, and hugged her once more before ducking into his car. Erin whistled cheerfully as she made her way back to her room, and she slept soundly that night.

* * *

A/N: BWAHAHAHAHA! Randy's been arrested (yes, he'll be back; he'll just be out of the story for a while), Meg's safe at home, and all is right with the world! The next chapter will be all about Erin's birthday, and then back to wrestling. Read and review, please!


	13. Celebrate the Good Times

"Morning, Cinderella!" Erin chirped, nearly dancing around the room as the sun rose.

"So why are you so happy today, Snow White?" Beth asked, laughing as she made her bed.

"Randy's in jail, Meg's back home, and my cast comes off today!" Erin called, grinning. "And it's my birthday!"

"Sounds like a good birthday present to me," Beth replied, shaking her head at Erin's uncharacteristic exuberance. "I'm heading down to the conference room, alright? I'll see you later."

Erin grabbed her wallet, joining her friend on the trip down the stairs.

"I'm heading to the hospital anyway. It'll be my first time hailing a cab in ages," she replied.

"You need anyone to go with you?" Beth asked.

"I'm a big girl now, Beth," she laughed. "I think I can handle a cab on my own."

"Wait, are you going to the hospital?" Cody yelled from the lobby.

"Yeah, why?" Erin called back.

"I have to get my concussion checked out to find out if I'm cleared or not," Cody replied, his voice returning to normal volume as she reached the lobby. "Want to split cab fare? I'd say we could drive, but Ted took the car."

"Sure," Erin replied agreeably. "How's it feeling, by the way?"

"Pretty good," Cody said, hailing a cab from the sidewalk. "I think I should be okay to start wrestling again. It's just really boring not being able to do anything."

"I know the feeling," Erin said dryly, holding up her arm. Cody nodded sympathetically, holding the cab door open for her. "Mercy General Hospital, please." The trip was a short one, and Cody paid the fare before she could even open her wallet. "Fine, but I'm paying on the way back."

"Meet back here?" Cody confirmed, and Erin nodded, heading to Dr. Rodriguez's office.

"Miss Harris!" he exclaimed, smiling. "Glad to see you back here. Let's take a look at that arm, shall we?"

An x-ray, an MRI, and an hour later, a cast-free Erin Harris made her way back to the lobby.

"Finally," Cody groaned, mock-impatient. Erin smacked his shoulder with the cast. "Ow. You kept it?"

"It's signed," Erin said defensively.

"Cab's outside," Cody replied, not bothering to argue. "Want to have a Zelda rematch later? You're going down this time."

"You wish," Erin laughed, ducking into the car. "When do you want it?"

"Is this evening okay?" Cody asked. "I've got a lunch meeting and an early afternoon…thing…to do."

"A 'thing' to do?" Erin asked skeptically. "And you do know it's 'early afternoon' already, right?"

"Yeah," Cody replied stubbornly. Erin shook her head, paying the cab driver quickly. "Congrats on being uninjured, by the way."

"Thanks!" Erin replied. "And thanks for the cab-sharing. I'll see you later." Back up the stairs she went, tossing her phone on the bed as she entered the room. Not five seconds later, her phone rang, and she nearly tripped over herself in her haste to grab the phone.

"Erin, you need to get down to the conference room—" Beth said breathlessly. "Just hurry, okay?"

"Alright, alright," Erin replied, worried. She sprinted for the stairs, miraculously managing to not break her ankles. She grabbed the door handle, yanking it open, and looked up to see brightly-colored balloons and people everywhere.

"Happy birthday!" they called, and Erin covered her mouth in surprise. John and Beth stood at the front of the group, but the room was filled with all of her friends from SmackDown and Raw—Cody, Ted, Kofi, Hunter, Shawn, Evan, Mark, Eve, Maria, Kelly, Nikki, Brie, Christian, Matt, Morrison, R-Truth, David, Tyson, Natalya, and Mickie. Rey had brought his entire family, and Erin waved to Alia with a smile.

"You guys," she protested, smiling. "You didn't have to do all this for me."

"Nonsense," Beth informed her. "Come on. You have to blow out your candles before you can open your presents, and we all want you to open your presents." Erin laughed, and John pulled out a chair for her. Beth and John held her hands as they sang, and Alia hopped into her lap as soon as the song was done.

"Open mine first!" she ordered, bouncing up and down on Erin's lap.

"Don't do that, I might break," Erin replied, laughing as she accepted a painting of the beach from the little girl. "This is beautiful, Alia. Thank you."

"And I have a poem for you!" Alia proclaimed proudly. "A birthday song."

"Alright, ameerah, go ahead," Erin laughed. The little girl sat up a little straighter in Erin's lap.

"Estas son las mañanitas que cantaba el Rey David. Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti," Alia recited. "Despierta, mi bien despierta, mira que ya amaneció. Ya los pajaritos cantan. La luna ya se metió. Que linda está la mañana en que vengo a saludarte. Venimos todos con gusto y placer a felicitarte. Ya viene amaneciendo. Ya la luz del día nos dio. Levántate de mañana. Mira que ya amaneció."

"Alia, that was beautiful," Erin replied, smiling. "Although I'm afraid I don't know what any of that meant."

"These are the little songs that King David used to sing. Today, we sing them to a loved one who will be happy. Wake up on this early morning and you will see the sun. As the moon leaves us this morning, all the birds will sing. How beautiful is the morning that we come to share with you! We all come in celebration of this special day, just for you. The day is dawning and the light of day has come. Awaken early this morning to see all that we have done," John translated, surprising her. "Although it sounds better in Spanish."

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish," Rey remarked, surprised.

"I'm a man of surprises," John replied, winking at Erin.

"Thank you, Alia," Erin said, leaning down to kiss the younger girl on the cheek. "And thanks, John." John grinned, offering a mocking salute. "Rey, thank you so much for coming."

"Our pleasure, Erin. This is my wife, Angie, and my son, Dominik," Rey said, and Erin shook his wife's and son's hands.

"Nice to meet you," Erin said, smiling warmly. "Thanks for coming."

"Thank you," Angie replied firmly. "For protecting my daughter." Erin inclined her head, still smiling.

"My turn!" Beth called, handing over a small box. "And no, you don't have to take me to this, either." Erin opened the box with a bemused smile, and a pair of New York Giants tickets fell out into her hand. The smile turned into a grin, and Beth couldn't help but laugh.

The other superstars followed in turn, and Erin lost count of the hugs and presents she received. The Divas had teamed up and promised her a shopping spree, paid for by them. Cody gave her a vintage Nintendo 64 gaming system, complete with every compatible Zelda game, while Ted, rolling his eyes at his friend's nerdiness, gave her a spa gift certificate, adding that he was giving Beth the same thing for her birthday and that they could go together. Kofi's gift was a Jamaican flag blanket. Shawn and Hunter proudly presented her with her own DX t-shirt and a sledgehammer. Christian and Matt had chipped in to buy her a mini trampoline, small enough to take with her, with the caveat that they be allowed to use it as well. Erin had laughed at that before Evan presented her with a pair of stilts, which had caused her to laugh even harder. David and Tyson gave her a Hart Dynasty jacket and an all-access pass to their favorite ski resort, with the invitation to stay with them and Natalya whenever she came. R-Truth and John Morrison handed over a six-volume set of classic rock albums, each signed by their respective bands, and Erin sat back, overwhelmed, as that last gift was handed over.

"You're not quite done yet," John called, holding something behind his back. "I know it turned out that your guitar really couldn't be repaired, because it was just too shattered. So I went to Mandolin Brothers in Staten Island, and—well, came back with this." He handed over a guitar case, which Erin opened with trembling fingers.

"This is a Gibson J185," she whispered, running her fingers along its body. "John, this is among the best Gibson flattops in the world. How—"

"I asked for the best they had," John replied, smiling crookedly. "And they managed to fit your tuning pegs to it, so there's a little bit of your old guitar in it as well." Erin set the guitar case down carefully, trying not to cry as she hugged John tightly.

"Thank you," she said finally, and stepped back carefully. "Now, I think there's some cake that needs eating, so why don't we get on that?" Beth handed over the cake knife, and Erin handed the first slice to Alia, allowing the superstars to help themselves as she cut the cake.

"So has it been a good birthday so far?" Natalya asked, coming over quietly.

"The best," Erin replied, smiling gratefully. "I don't know the last time I had a birthday party, honestly."

"You've got a family now, okay?" Natalya reminded her gently. "Go enjoy your party."

"Thanks, Nat," Erin whispered, hugging the younger woman tightly. "You're the best."

"And don't you forget it," Natalya informed her, gently teasing. Erin laughed, shaking her head as she made her way over to Cody and Ted.

"Hey, birthday girl," Cody called. "What do you think? Massive Zelda marathon at some point?"

"Oh, so that's why you got me the N64," Erin laughed.

"Never!" Cody protested. "That's only _part_ of the reason." Ted snickered, and Erin couldn't help but grin.

"Thank you," Erin said sincerely, though she still smiled. "I can honestly say this is the best birthday party ever."

"I'm glad we could help," Ted replied, giving her a hug. "You deserve an awesome birthday."

"Hey—feel free to have some more cake, alright?" Erin offered, smiling. "I'm going to go give out some more thank-yous."

She wandered through her friends, thanking each and every one individually. Slowly, the party began disperse, the superstars going back to their afternoon routines.

Beth packed up the last of the cake, taking it upstairs as the last of the guests trickled out.

"Hey, John!" Erin called. John turned back, and she caught up with him. "I just wanted to thank you again," she said quietly. "I can't even begin to tell you how much it meant to me." John smiled.

"I'm glad I could help," he replied, his voice equally quiet. "Happy birthday, Erin." Erin smiled faintly, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her lips were whisper-soft against his, and John caught her hips instinctively as she wrapped one hand around the back of his neck. Erin stepped back slowly, a ghost of a smile flitting across her face as she slipped away.

* * *

A/N: HA! I finally did something about John and Erin. What do you guys think? Also, I absolutely love The Italian Job and anything James Bond, so I just had to put the Aston Martin Vanquish in at some point. Who can tell me what Bond film it pops up in?

On a separate note, thank you so much for continuing to review. It really means so much to me, and it's validating for any writer just to hear that you thought there was a good idea or two in there.

As ever, please read and review!


	14. Shake What Your Mama Gave You

The Divas arrived the next morning to take her out on the promised shopping spree, and Erin was surprised by the fact that she somewhat enjoyed the trip. She lost count of the dress, shirts, pants, skirts, and shoes she tried on, but the Divas enjoyed the trip as well, taking the opportunity do some shopping of their own. By the time she left, she had seven new dresses, four pairs of jeans, three pairs of dress pants, twelve pairs of shoes—four of them heels—and twenty-four new shirts. Their trip also netted a whole host of new jewelry and a box of nail polishes, which Beth made her promise to use immediately.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Beth helped her paint them a vibrant shade of peach before informing her that she would be wearing one of her dresses—a tangelo-hued ombre cocktail dress, strapless, with an embellished waistband and a skirt that fluttered to midthigh in light, silky layers. Beth paired it with crystalline heels and citrine jewelry. There was a knock at the door, and Erin opened it to see Nikki and Brie, wearing matching one-shoulder black minidresses.

"Girl, you look amazing!" they informed her in chorus, and Erin smiled.

"Come on in—Beth's still getting ready," she offered, ushering them in.

"The other girls are on the way up," Nikki informed her, handing her a bottle of grenadine.

"We brought the drinks and mixers," Brie added, setting out sodas and bottles of vodka, tequila, rum, and beer. "Come on. We'll make your Shirley Temple."

"Thanks," Erin said gratefully, opening the door once more as Natalya and Mickie entered arm in arm. Natalya wore an off-the-shoulder zebra-striped shirt with a floaty miniskirt and heels, while Mickie wore a simple summery white dress with black cowboy boots.

"Hold the door!" Kelly called, dragging Eve and Maria along with her. Kelly's strapless black-and-white dress showed off her long, lean legs, while Eve's ruched blue minidress hugged every curve of her body. Maria had paired a loose white miniskirt with a one-shouldered gold top. "Stephanie says she'll meet us there."

"Are the boys coming?" Beth asked, coming out of the bedroom as she smoothed down her red corset top and jeans.

"They're already downstairs in the DX suite," Kelly replied. "They'll call cabs whenever we tell them to."

"I love having all the power," Eve remarked, laughing.

"So where exactly are we going tonight?" Erin asked, curious, sipping her Shirley Temple.

"Salsa dancing," Mickie replied promptly, twirling her skirt. "We all went and learned while we were traveling in Spain." Erin smiled.

"We worked with the Spanish army for a time in Fallujah," she reminisced. "One of the nurses there taught me how to salsa dance and do a bit of flamenco."

"You'll have to show us!" Natalya insisted.

"I will, I promise," Erin replied, smiling. "Are we heading to the DX suite?"

"Bring your drinks!" Beth commanded. Nikki and Brie hooked arms with Erin immediately, handing over a white rose to place in her curls. Erin laughed, pinning it in place and allowing them to lead her out the door.

"Welcome, beautiful ladies, to the Party Suite!" Shawn called, just a little bit tipsy, as he threw open the door.

"Shawn, are you actually going to be able to dance?" Mickie asked, laughing.

"Of course I am," Shawn replied, frowning. Erin couldn't help but laugh as well, following Nikki and Brie inside. Erin's eye was drawn immediately to John Cena, who sat next to Cody and Ted on the couch, watching the football game. Nikki and Brie immediately noticed the direction of her glance, exchanging mischievous smiles as they practically dragged her over, pushing her to take a seat.

"We're going to grab drinks," they chorused, and Erin rolled her eyes. John chuckled, and Erin glanced over at him with a reluctant smile.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hi," John replied, hiding a smile. "You look…nice."

"Thanks," Erin said quietly.

"So I hear you're quite the salsa dancer," Cody called, slinging his arm around her shoulder. "I think you might have to prove that to us at some point."

"Anytime," Erin laughed. "It's the one girly thing I'm capable of doing."

"I got the cabs out front," Hunter called. "Everybody ready to go?"

"Four to a car?" John asked, and Hunter nodded. "Who wants to ride with me?"

"Erin and I will, right?" Cody asked. Erin wriggled out from under his arm.

"Sure," she laughed. "Who else?"

"I'll ride with you guys," Christian called, joining them. "And I'm calling shotgun."

"I'll take bitch seat," Erin sighed. "Huzzah for being the smallest."

"Thank you," John said, smiling as he held open the door for her.

"I'll say," Cody agreed. "Otherwise, I'd be the one stuck there. So thanks."

"Where to?" the cab driver asked.

"Bailando on 4th and Broad," Christian informed him, buckling up. Erin slid into the middle seat, her body tensing slightly as John's leg pressed against hers. "So Erin, where'd you learn to dance?"

"We were with some forces from Spain outside of Fallujah," Erin replied. "It's actually really hard to dance in combat boots. The 7th Light Infantry Brigade of the Sargento Primero—First Sergeant—taught me. He was a sweetheart. And a good dancer, come to think of it."

"Ooh, a sexy Spanish lover," Cody teased.

"He was pretty cute, actually," Erin admitted, grinning. "He had the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him."

"So, Chris, you looking to dance with anyone in particular tonight?" John asked, shaking his head, grinning.

"Tiffany said she'd come join us," Christian replied. "I don't know—she seems really sweet."

"I know Natalya's good friends with her," Erin commented. "And she's got good taste."

"Thanks for the insider info," Christian laughed, shaking his head as they pulled up to the club. "And thanks for riding middle seat."

"You're welcome," Erin replied, slipping out the door that John opened for her. "Now let's go dance, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," John said, saluting facetiously. Erin rolled her eyes, and Cody hid a smirk.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but there's a black-haired beauty over there just waiting to meet me," he informed them, making his way around the dance floor. Erin shook her head, leaning against one of the tables. Christian took the seat next to her, looking at the door impatiently.

"She'll show up eventually, Chris," John informed him, taking the seat on Erin's other side. "In the mean time, Erin, I'll bet you dinner at the restaurant of your choice you can't dance half as well as you say," John challenged her. Erin sat down, and John smirked.

"Don't you give me that look, Cena," she retorted. She slipped off her stilettos and held them up. "I'm not dancing in those things—I know you're supposed to, but I learned in combat boots and I trip in heels. Make it dinner and dessert, and you're on. Ready to go?"

"I can't dance," John laughed. "But Christian can. Yo, Chris, want to see if she's got the moves to back up the talk?"

"Salsa? You bet," Christian replied, setting down his drink. "Want them to play anything in particular?"

"I've got something," Erin replied, making her way to the DJ booth and requesting a song quickly. "Come on, Chris. Show me what you got." Chris led the way out to the dance floor, beckoning to her teasingly. Erin laughed, pirouetting out onto the floor to join him.

_Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell_

_It was love from above that could save me from hell_

_There was fire in her soul, it was easy to see_

_How the devil himself could be pulled out of me_

_There were drums in the air as she started to dance_

_Every soul in the room keeping time with their hands_

Even in the dimness of the club, Erin seemed to shimmer as she danced. Her legs were long beneath her skirt, and her hips moved fluidly as Christian spun her across the floor. She threw her head back, laughing, and a line of light slipped down from her collarbone, sliding down the length of her dress and catching on the golden skin of her legs.

_And we sang ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And our voices rang like the angels sang, singing_

_Ay, o ay, o ay__, o ay_

_And we danced on into the night_

_Like a piece to the puzzle that falls into place_

_You could tell how we felt from the looks on our faces_

_Spinning in circles with the moon in our eyes_

_No room left to move in between you and eye_

_We forgot where we were and we lost track of time_

_And we sang to the wind as we danced through the night_

Christian dipped her low, swinging her around, her back arched so that her head nearly touched the floor as her feet traced a circle around them. Erin laughed, rolling her body before snapping back upright, her hands in his once more.

_And we sang ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And our voices rang like the angels sang, singing_

_Ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And we danced on into the night_

_Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell_

_It was love from above that could save me from hell_

_There was fire in her soul, it was easy to see_

_How the devil himself could be pulled out of me_

_There were drums in the air as she started to dance_

_Every soul in the room keeping time with their hands_

Erin pirouetted again and again as Christian spun her across the floor. He caught her leg, wrapping it around his hip and lowering her into a split before raising her upright. Christian stepped back, releasing her hands and Erin raised her hands above her head. Her feet moved quickly, barely skimming the floor for their speed, as she sashayed back to him.

_And we sang ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And our voices rang like the angels sang, singing_

_Ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And we danced on into the night_

_And we sang ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And our voices rang like the angels sang, singing_

_Ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And we danced on into the night_

_And we sang ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And our voices rang like the angels sang, singing_

_Ay, o ay, o ay, o ay_

_And we danced on into the night_

Christian dipped Erin back as the song finished, lifting her slowly. Erin smiled, breathing a little heavily, as she walked back to the table.

"So did I back up my talk?" she asked breathlessly, taking the seat John pulled out for her with a smile.

"You _definitely_ get dinner and dessert," John replied, impressed. "That was—wow."

"I told you—it's the one girly thing I can do," Erin said, taking a sip of her Shirley Temple. She grinned, winking at Beth as she joined them. "How'd I do?"

"Snow, that was _beyond_ sexy," Beth informed her. "You need to dance like that more often."

"Oh, no," Erin laughed. "That's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity right there."

"What if somebody wanted to learn how to dance?" John asked innocently.

"I'd say learn rumba first, then try salsa," Erin replied. "Rumba's easy enough that I can actually dance it in heels."

"So you could teach me, then," John suggested. Erin smiled.

"Sure," she agreed, resigned. "Come on. We'll start with a basic side step." She led him to an unoccupied corner of the floor. "Your left hand goes on my back, and mine goes on your bicep."

"Tickets to the gun show?" John teased. Erin laughed, shaking her head as she stepped slightly closer.

"So the man always leads, but I'll help you through this," she promised. "You're just going to the side with the left, together with the right, in place with the left, then do the opposite—side with the right, together with the left, in place with the right."

"That doesn't sound terrible," John remarked, stepping carefully.

"Relax," Erin ordered. "You won't step on my toes. And if you do, I'm pretty sure I have no pain-sensing nerves left in there. Steel-toed boots hurt a lot more." Slowly, John began to move with the music, and found to his surprise that he moved more easily when he wasn't thinking about it.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," he commented.

"Want to learn a box step?" Erin asked. John nodded. "It's a similar sequence, left, right, left, then right, left, right. You're going to step forward left, side right, together left, back right, side left, together right."

"Alright," John said cautiously. "When do we get to start doing turns?"

"We can do a turning box once you're comfortable with this," Erin laughed. John waggled his eyebrows, moving through the steps with a little more confidence. "Have you danced before?"  
"My mom made me learn how to waltz when I was younger," John confessed. "But that didn't go very well." Erin stifled a giggle as they continued the box step. "Now what was that about turning?"

"So now, every time you take a step forward or backwards, we're going to do a quarter-turn," Erin explained. "Think you're up to it?"

"The Champ ever backs down," John boasted, and Erin couldn't bite back her giggle that time. "Do I turn right or left?"

"Turn to the outside, away from me," Erin replied. "I'll follow with you."

"Okay," John said confidently. "I got this." He led her through the steps slowly and carefully, moving more quickly as his steps became more confident. "Hey—can we try one hard one? Just for fun?

"Sure," Erin laughed. "We can do the Cuban walk. It's a little more complicated. Six steps forward, then six steps back."

"That doesn't sound so hard," John said commented.

"You have to do it in a specific pattern, though—slow, quick, quick. And if you want this to be the last step we do, we should finish with a dip."

"Those I can do," John assured her. "Let's go." He began the steps tentatively, but by the fifth repetition, was performing them comfortably.

"Now let's put it all together—four side steps, eight box steps, eight turning box steps, then four Cuban walks," Erin challenged him, smiling. She tugged him out into the middle of the floor, and John led her through the steps comfortably, his hand on her back holding her close. By the time he dipped her back, the floor was cleared, and the superstars stood around them, cheering. "You're a quick learner," she whispered, catching her breath with a smile as he pulled her to her feet.

"Quickety-quick," John reminded her, his smile as broad as hers. "And I had a good teacher."

"The best," Erin corrected him.

"You two looked great together," Beth whispered into Erin's ear. Erin blushed brilliantly, and Beth laughed as John ushered Erin off the floor.

"I think my legs might be done with dancing for the night—I'm still recovering from that lower body workout," Erin commented, taking a seat gratefully. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost two o'clock," Cody informed her, the black-haired girl he'd seen earlier just behind him. "You two have been dancing for a good hour and a half."

"No wonder I want to burn these things," Erin realized, pulling off her heels to massage her aching feet.

"They look painful," John observed.

"They are," Brie, Nikki, Natalya, and Beth chorused. Erin snickered, shaking her head.

"We've got a workout tomorrow, even though it's Sunday—I know, Hunter's getting a little over-the-top," Evan reminded them, coming over, Kelly on his arm. "Anybody want to split a cab with me and Kelly?"

"Sure," John replied quickly. "Erin, how about you?"

"As long as I don't get bitch seat this time, yes," Erin replied, laughing.

"I don't mind—I got shotgun on the way here," Kelly promised. "Actually, why don't you take shotgun?"

"Alright," Erin agreed, holding her heels in one hand as she rose. "Oh, I can't wait to put my boots back on."

The four superstars laughed and joked as they made their way out into the night, happy just to be in each others' company.

* * *

A/N: Long chapter, I know. But I couldn't help but have fun with this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. _Into the Night_ is actually a really fun song to salsa to-it's got the perfect rhythm. And I really needed to get another silly/fluffy chapter out of my system. Fear not, though-more wrestling is to come! (As well as more fluffiness. It's a fine line.) Read and review, please!


	15. Find Someone Who Cares About You

Monday night rolled around, and Erin was nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement as they were about the leave the hotel.

"Why are you so energetic right now?" John asked.

"I can ride my motorcycle to Raw tonight!" Erin proclaimed joyfully. "Want a lift?"

"Is that an actual question?" John retorted, following her out. She handed over the spare helmet with a grin, hopping onto the motorcycle herself and peeling out of the garage, John clinging to her waist. Erin was disappointed by how short the trip was, but bounced off the motorcycle, ready to get back at it.

"I'll see you at the locker room—I have to go see the trainers," John said.

"Sounds good," Erin replied cheerfully. "I'll see you there."

"Erin—hey, Erin!" someone called. Erin turned around, catching sight of Stephanie.

"Hey, Steph!" she replied, still smiling. "What's up?"

"We're so glad to have you back, first of all," Steph replied. "Second, I overheard the Straight Edge Society talking about you, so I'm kind of worried about what Punk might be up to."

"Actually, I heard a rumor he plans to recruit me tonight," Erin said, smiling slightly. "I've got a plan for that, though. He doesn't know that I'm not injured anymore." She held up her arm, placing her cast on it.

"Alright, surprise me, then," Stephanie laughed. "I think he might be out there already, so you may want to hurry."

"Thanks, Steph," Erin replied, hugging her quickly. "I'll see you later, alright?" She grabbed a microphone from the soundbooth, waving to Steve and Rob as she passed them, waiting just backstage of the ramp as she listened.

"Monday Night Raw, I have come to save you," CM Punk was saying. The crowd booed, and he waited until they quieted. "I know you don't believe you need help, but I am your savior. Tonight, though, I am not here to change your lives just yet—I'm actually here to speak with the G.I. Jane, Erin Harris." Erin's music rang out, and she walked down the ramp slowly, keeping one eye on the Straight Edge Society as she climbed into the ring, perching on the ropes in the corner.

"Now I must say, I really respect you," he went on. "You didn't even take painkillers after breaking your arm, and that's something the Straight Edge Society respects." Erin smiled tightly, still listening. "I respect you even more for being straight-edge, and I can see how much the WWE Universe admires you. So if you will raise your hand high, and accept CM Punk as your lord and savior, I'd like to ask you one more time to be a spokesperson for the Straight-Edge Society."

Erin jumped down lightly from her seat on the corner ropes, making her way forward until she was at the center of the ring.

"In this world," she began, "there's three things I believe in." CM Punk looked at her, curious. "First, I believe in myself." There was a burst of cheers from the crowd, and CM Punk nodded agreeably. "Second, I believe in the United States Marine Corps." She saluted as she said it, and the cheers were noticeably louder this time. "Third, I believe in God, so believe me when I say, CM Punk, that there is only one Lord and Savior, and it sure as anything ain't you," Erin spat. CM Punk's expression was murderous, and she managed a small grin.

"The only thing saving you right now, Erin Harris," he replied tightly, "is the fact that I will not attack a handicapped opponent."

"Oh, don't let that stop you," she told him, her smiling broadening. She banged her cast with the side of her fist, and it popped free of her arm. "I'm all healed." With that, she dropped the microphone, slapping him full across the face. He staggered backwards, shocked, and Erin charged him without a second thought. She caught him around the waist, sending him to the mat before kneeling over him, driving blow after blow into his head until the referee pulled her away. CM Punk rose cautiously, eyeing her with trepidation. Erin beckoned to him, and he caught her by surprise when he dove for her leg, yanking her to the mats as well. She rolled away before he could pin her, rising to drive her foot toward his chest. He caught it, smirking cockily. Undeterred, Erin hit him with an enzuigiri, catching his temple and knocking him to the ground. He lay there, momentarily stunned, and she bounced onto the top rope, balancing for a moment as he struggled to his feet. With a salute to the crowd, she executed a perfect dragonrana, holding him down as the crowd bellowed the three-count.

"That may be the fastest pin I've seen in years, Michael," Jerry remarked, shaking his head. "And CM Punk looks none too pleased with the result." Erin wisely slipped out of the ring before Luke or Serena could reach her.

"You're going to pay for this!" CM Punk screamed, his expression murderous. "Do you hear me? You're going to pay for this!" Erin performed a mocking backflip, waving to the crowd once more before disappearing from the ramp.

Even hours later, back at hotel, Erin couldn't help but smile as she remembered, and Beth grinned. The two had just finished dinner in lounge at the end of the hall, and were relaxing lazily.

"You sure know how to make a point, don't you? With Punk, I mean." she commented. Erin nodded, her smile broadening. "So are you coming out with us tonight?"

"I don't think so," Erin replied, shaking her head. "I'm really not feeling up to it tonight."

"Did I hear what I think I heard?" John called, walking over. "You're not going out tonight?"

"It's not really my scene," Erin shrugged. "I need a break, honestly."

"I know a bar and grille downtown—they've got the best steaks around. Want to go grab dinner?" John offered. "Honestly, I could use a night off." Erin hesitated, uncertain. "I'll even wear a nice shirt," he added persuasively, only half-teasing. Erin couldn't help but smile.

"Alright," she replied, biting her lip. "Give me a minute to change?"

"I'll be waiting in the lobby," he promised. As he closed the door, the girls all swiveled to look at her, and Erin blushed.

"Girl, we need to get you dolled up!" Beth informed her.

"You're incorrigible," Erin muttered, shaking her head. "I give you all permission to do hair and makeup, but I'm going to dinner, not a club. I'm wearing jeans."

"Deal," Beth replied promptly. Erin flipped through her closet, still shaking her head. "Wear the brown one. It makes your eyes shine." The shirt Beth had indicated was one of the ones bought on their shopping trip—a dark chocolate-brown one-shouldered shirt with lace along the hem. It was simple but chic, and Beth smiled proudly as Erin donned a pair of flat suede boots in the same color. "You're finally wearing something other than t-shirts voluntarily!"

"Yes, yes, my style is evolving," Erin laughed. Taking a seat as Kelly pulled out a curling iron, she asked, "What are you going to do?"

"It's a low-key place, so I'm doing a low ponytail for you," Kelly replied, working busily. "And because you look so stylish, I'll just do a little gold shadow and some lip gloss."

"You know, I have actually done makeup before," Erin replied, somewhat affronted. "It was the only way I could remind the guys on my squad that I was female."

"So what's between you and John?" Maria asked, feigning innocence as she changed the subject.

"I really—I really like him," Erin admitted, blushing. "I know it's all really fast, but I actually trust him. After what happened at Camp Pendleton, with Randy—it's been really hard for me to trust anyone, and with the exception of my squad, I was mostly scared of guys."

"I understand," Eve said sympathetically. "He really is a good guy, and he's clearly crazy about you."

"You really think so?" Erin asked, trying to mask her excitement.

"Snow, his face lights up whenever you enter the room, he uses every excuse to hang out with you that he can, and he just asked you out to dinner," Beth said, exasperated. "He was the only one of the guys who was never interested in the Divas. He treated us like younger sisters, sure, but he was never into any of us that way." Erin's smile was giddy, and Beth laughed. "Go have some fun. You've earned it."

"Thanks, Beth," Erin smiled, kissing her friend's cheek swiftly. "I'll try and let my hair down."

"Go get 'em, girl," Beth whispered, smiling to see the bounce in Erin's step.

Erin entered the lobby looking distinctly shy, glancing around to find John. He stood near the doors, wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans with a dark suit-jacket, smiling as he caught sight of her.

"You look beautiful," he told her, taking her hand as they left. Erin smiled up at him.

"And you look dashing," she replied.

"It's the jacket," he informed her conspiratorially, and she giggled as he fixed his collar. "Drives the girls wild."

"I see," Erin laughed, nodding sagely. "There really is something about a man in uniform."

"Absolutely," John replied promptly. "How does your arm feel?"

"Not as bad as I expected, honestly," Erin replied. "And now that I'm cleared to wrestle again, I'm spending every second I can in the ring or the gym."

"You really don't like sitting still, do you?" John realized. Erin glanced to the side, grinning wryly.

"I don't do inactivity well," she admitted, still grinning. "It was harder than I could ever have imagined to just sit backstage and watch the matches."

"Why don't you come to the ring with me next week?" he offered. "I'm fighting CM Punk. Moral support is always appreciated."

"As long as you promise to kick his ass," Erin told him. "He pisses me off like no other."

"Because of the whole straight-edge-means-I'm-better-than-you?" John asked. Erin nodded.

"Straight edge is just a lifestyle choice," she replied. "You can't force someone to change how they live their life, and that's what he's trying to do. But apparently, he still wants to recruit me for the Straight-Edge Society. Apparently, he doesn't understand rejection."

"Oh, I can't wait to see him try again," John said, raising his eyebrows skeptically. "That should be amusing."

"I'm definitely looking forward to it," Erin replied, smiling. She looked up, surprised, as John held the door open for her, realizing that they had arrived.

"Welcome to the Capital Grille," John said, indicating the restaurant. "Best steak in Philly."

"Mr. Cena!" the hostess said, smiling. "Always glad to see you here. Who's your lovely friend?"

"This is Erin Harris," John replied, and Erin shook the hostess' hand. "She's our newest superstar." The hostess' eyes widened, and pulled out a small book.

"Can I have your autograph?" she asked, excited. "I'm a huge WWE fan."

"I think this might be my first autograph," Erin laughed, signing an empty page. "This is kind of cool!"

"Well, we're glad to have you at the Capital Grille," the hostess replied. "I've got a private table in the back available. I'll send a waiter over in five."

"Thanks, Christy," John replied, following her to the table. He pulled out Erin's chair for her, allowing her to sit first.

"So what do you recommend here?" Erin asked.

"I think I'm going to get the porterhouse, but everything here is good," John replied. "Actually, you might like the Delmonico steak."

"Welcome to the Capital Grille," their waiter said, arriving at the table. "I'm Angelo, and I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks, or are you ready to order?"

"I think we're ready to order," John replied, glancing at Erin to be sure. "I'll have the 24-ounce aged porterhouse, medium-well."

"And for the lady?" Angelo asked.

"I'll go with John's recommendation," Erin replied. "I'll have the Delmonico steak. Could I get that medium-rare, please?"

"You do know that's a 22-ounce steak, right?" Angelo asked, looking at her quizzically. "Although we can certainly get you a bag to take home if you need it."

"You'd be surprised," John said wryly. "I'm pretty sure she'll finish it."

"And what drinks can I get for you tonight?" Angelo said, shrugging.

"Erin, do you mind if I order?" John asked. Erin nodded. "Two chocolate milkshakes."

"Good choice, sir," Angelo replied. "They'll be out in a moment. Any appetizers?"

"We'll have the prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella," John replied, handing over his menu.

"Very good, then," Angelo agreed. "We'll have your food out as soon as possible." He took their menus as he left, and Erin turned to John.

"Chocolate milkshakes?" she asked, grinning.

"They make handspun chocolate shakes," John replied, sounding defensive. "They're the richest, most delicious, chocolatiest things I've ever tasted. And yes, chocolatiest is a word."

"I won't argue that," Erin laughed. "And I love chocolate milkshakes."

"Who doesn't like chocolate milkshakes?" John replied.

"Good point," Erin agreed. "So how did you get into wrestling in the first place?"

"I played football in high school and college, and started bodybuilding after," John explained. "My degree was in Exercise Psychology, and I always knew I wanted to do something sports-related. I've also always been into music, and I recorded a CD a few years ago. My dad suggested since I loved entertainment and athletics, I should look into professional wrestling. I went out to California and never looked back. How about you—why Marines?"

"I enlisted straight out of high school," Erin replied. "I wanted to get away from my family—my dad was an alcoholic, my mom had left us when I was 12, and my older brother had moved out as soon as he had enough money. I was only 17 when I graduated, so I forged my dad's signature and joined up. I wanted to be a part of something important and meaningful, and I definitely was. It was the best thing I could have done."

"Your appetizer and milkshakes," Angelo announced, setting a small platter down at the center of the table. "Enjoy!"

"Have you ever tried these?" John asked, holding up a slice of prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella.

"I can't say I have," Erin replied, taking a sip of her milkshake.

"Then open up," John ordered teasingly, grinning. Erin did so, and he leaned over, placing it in her mouth. Erin's eyes widened.

"Oh, my God," she said. "That is absolutely amazing."

"I told you this place was good," John replied, laughing.

"I was sold as soon as you said there were milkshakes, honestly," Erin informed him, grinning crookedly. "I didn't know you were a musician, too."

"You probably wouldn't believe it, since I'm from New Hampshire, but I do hip hop and rap," John replied. "The guys on my football team teased me like no other, but I love the music too much."

"It's an escape," Erin agreed, her eyes distant. "I started playing in middle school, because it gave me an excuse to stay at the park until it was too dark to see, so I could avoid my dad. The guys in my squad loved it, too. And sometimes, when we were trying to get on the good side of the villagers, I'd go out and play whatever the kids requested. Apparently, even an M-16 is less scary when the person carrying it can play 'Happy Birthday' on guitar." John chuckled, looking up as Angelo arrived with their steaks.

"Here you are," he announced, setting the plates down carefully. "Bon appétit, mademoiselle et monsieur."

"Merci," Erin replied, smiling.

"You know French?" John asked, surprised. Erin laughed, shaking her head.

"I speak Arabic fluently, thanks to the Marines, but I speak a few words of Spanish, French, German, and Russian," she replied.

"A jack of all trades, then," John remarked, grinning.

"And a master of none," Erin threw back.

"You seem pretty close on the wrestling thing," John informed her, and Erin blushed.

"Thanks," she replied, taking a bite of her steak.

"Told you it was good," John said smugly, in response to her expression, before digging into his own steak. "So what's your favorite movie?"

"Because that wasn't random or anything," Erin replied, laughing. "I really like anything action, but I was a big fan of Inglorious Basterds and the Sherlock Holmes from 2009. My all time favorite, though, is probably either Kill Bill Vol. 1 or any of the Fast and the Furious movies."

"All fantastic movies," John agreed.

"How about you?" Erin asked, curious.

"My favorite animated movie is Fist of the North Star, but my favorite of all time is the original Die Hard," John replied. "In a continuance of the randomness, what's your favorite book?"

"Anything by J.R.R. Tolkien," Erin replied promptly. "If we're going with random, what's your favorite color?"

"Forest green," John answered, smiling. "And I'm guessing yours is blue."

"Kind of," Erin replied, grinning. "Turquoise or cerulean, specifically."

"Got it," John said, nodding. They lapsed into an easy silence as they continued to eat. When the check arrived, John took it before Erin could even offer to pay.

"I'm leaving the tip, then," she said quickly, her tone informing him that she would brook no argument.

"Alright," John laughed. "Ready to go?"

"Yup," Erin replied, rising and grabbing her purse. "Back to the hotel we go."

Philadelphia at night was a beautiful sight, though John watched the passers-by cautiously, just in case. Luckily, their hotel was in a good part of town, and they reached Erin and Beth's suite without any difficulty.

"Thank you," Erin said hesitantly, not wanting him to go just yet.

"It was my pleasure," John assured her, showing no sign that he intended to leave, and Erin took a deep breath.

"So what are we, exactly?" she asked bluntly. John took a step closer.

"I don't know what we are," he replied honestly. "But what I want us to be—that's different. I want you to be my girl. I want you to be the one who walks with me to the ring. I want to be the one you can trust in spite of everything that's happened and everything that's been done to you, and I want everyone else to know that you're taken."

"Why me?" Erin whispered. "I'm not pretty; I'm not girly; I'm damaged goods and I'm screwed up and I have a temper and—" John cut her off by pulling her close and kissing her deeply. Erin melted into him, and John looked down at her steadily.

"You're not pretty, you're beautiful," John informed her, tilting her chin up with two fingers so that she was looking at him. "I don't want a girly-girl Diva, I want a woman who knows who she is. You're real, you're strong and you're confident, and no matter what happened to you, you're not damaged or anything less than perfect. And I think you're sexy when you're angry."

"Oh," Erin said quietly, blushing. "Okay."

"Is that a yes?" John asked, confused.

"That's a 'you're the first guy I've trusted outside of my squad, you're funny and sweet and a gentleman, and you're completely amazing,'" Erin replied, eyes sparkling. "Of course that's a yes!" John laughed, lifting her easily and spinning her around, setting her down gently. He lowered his mouth to hers once more, kissing her softly.

"I think I could get used to this," he told her, his voice a husky rumble.

"I like the sound of that," Erin replied, catching her breath. She sighed. "I should really go to bed."

"I'll see you in the gym tomorrow," John promised. "Goodnight, Erin."

"Goodnight, John," Erin said softly, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him one last time. He caught her hips, taking her weight against his chest and deepening the kiss. She gasped as one hand tangled in her curls, opening her mouth softly in response to his touch. He set her down, breathing heavily, and Erin let out a shivering sigh.

"I _really_ like the sound of that," John informed her, and Erin blushed, smiling.

"Goodnight," Erin whispered, tripping over the carpet as she slid the door open. She leaned against the door when she closed it, biting her lip and grinning giddily.

"That good?" Beth asked, leaning on the counter.

"He asked me out," Erin replied, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I have a boyfriend, Beth!" Beth squealed, hugging Erin tightly and practically dancing around the hotel room.

"I told you so!" she proclaimed. "I told you so, I told you so, I told you so!"

"I know, I know!" Erin laughed.

"Come on—neither of us have anything until late tomorrow, so we're going to eat Ben and Jerry's and watch awesome movies and you're going to tell me all about this date," Beth ordered her, dialing room service.

"Yes, ma'am," Erin giggled, falling onto the couch.

"Now," Beth said. "You have to tell me everything."

* * *

A/N: An even longer chapter! And I finally got John and Erin together! And I'm using too many exclamation marks, but I don't really care! Next chapter will be the last bit of fluffiness for a little while, and I promise to get back to wrestling. Read and review, please!


	16. Be Full of Surprises

Erin felt as though she was walking on air for the next three days. She went through her normal workout routines, and basked in the teasing and ribbing from her fellow superstars. When Thursday came around at last, she gladly gave John a ride to the stadium, having been invited by Mike and Jerry to be a guest announcer for the Raw portion of the night.

"Just so you know, I'm kissing you in front of the entire WWE universe at Superstars tonight," John informed her as they headed into the stadium.

"I am entirely okay with that," Erin replied, smiling. "Good luck in your match—I should get out there."

"You'll make a wonderful announcer, I'm sure," John replied, leaning down to kiss her. Erin smiled up at him, making her way to the ramp. Steve wolf-whistled obnoxiously, and she stuck her tongue out at him as her music began to play.

The WWE Universe watched as she came out in a black off-the-shoulder minidress, with long, loose sleeves that flowed to her wrists. A scooped neckline and a ruched empire waistband showed off the curves normally hidden by her t-shirt and cargo pants. Her legs were long and lean beneath the floaty skirt, and she wore strappy sandals.

"Hey, everybody," Erin called, waving with her good hand. "I've been offered a chance to be a guest announcer on Superstars tonight. The doctors asked me to wait one more week before coming back, because that want to make sure I don't stress the newly-healed bone too much, and I actually got yelled at a little bit for last week's…adventures." She grinned, and the crowd laughed. "I can't wait to be back in the ring, but next to it is the next best thing, so I'll be joining Jerry and Mike tonight."

"And we're glad to have you," Jerry called back. Erin grinned, taking the seat next to him as he handed over a headset.

"I think this may be the first time the WWE universe has ever seen you in a dress," Mike remarked. "Please don't kill me for saying it, but you look absolutely gorgeous."

"I'm not entirely sure why I would kill you for saying I look nice, but thank you," Erin laughed.

"How are you liking the WWE so far?" Jerry asked.

"Everybody's been so nice, really," Erin replied, smiling. "Beth, of course, has been such a big help, and all the Raw and SmackDown superstars have just been so welcoming, especially John and Hunter and Cody."

"Well, the WWE Universe really is a family," Mike commented.

"Entering the ring first, the current WWE Champion, John Cena!" Justin Roberts announced.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of saying this, Mike—the Champ is here!" Jerry called. Erin grinned, watching as John saluted the crowd.

"And his opponent, weighing in at 222 pounds, the Straight Edge Superstar: CM Punk!" Justin went on. He was accompanied, as ever, by Luke Gallows and Serena, and Erin watched them warily.

"What do you think—will they try anything?" Mike asked her.

"I'd love to be an optimist and say CM Punk will fight fair for once, but I doubt it," Erin replied.

"What do you think the 'CM' in CM Punk stands for, anyway?" Jerry mused.

"Cookie Monster," Erin offered.

"Chicago Made," Mike tried.

"Coke Maligner?" Jerry suggested.

"He does hate Coca-Cola," Mike agreed. The bell rang, and all three announcers looked back to the ring.

"I'm glad we've all come to agreement on that exceptionally important topic," Erin remarked seriously, although she didn't manage to keep a straight face for more than three seconds.

John caught Punk in a drop toe hold, throwing him face-first into the mats.

"That's just vintage John Cena right there—use the simple moves, wear your opponent down," Jerry observed. "So incredibly effective, and every bit as efficient."

"Now, Jerry, you're a big Cena fan, but I really have to respect what CM Punk stands for—no drugs, no alcohol, no mind-altering substances, nothing unnatural. It's a very healthy, very pure lifestyle," Mike interjected.

"Mike, that means you respect the Straight Edge movement, which is something else entirely," Erin replied quickly. "Punk has perverted the ideals of straight edge for his own gains. He claims they make him better than everybody else, but that's an opinion, not a fact. Normally, I would respect a fellow straight edge practitioner, but his society terrorizes children, insults people who have done him no wrong, and try to force people to agree with them."

"I suppose I'd never thought of it that way before," Mike said slowly, giving the matter some thought, turning back to the ring in time to see Punk hit John with a spinning wheel kick. As John staggered, Punk hauled him into a snap scoop powerslam. John got to his feet slowly, but Punk Irish whipped him into the ropes. John exploded off of the ropes, hitting Punk with a running leaping shoulder block. Punk got back up quickly, and John hit him with a second one. When Punk avoided his next shoulder block, John turned it into a running one-handed bulldog instead. Punk rose much more slowly, and John grabbed his arm to throw him into the corner. Instead, Punk reversed the move, and John hit the corner post spine-first, hard. Punk followed it up with a running high knee that sent John staggering away, and Punk climbed the ropes quickly, throwing himself into the air, going for a diving crossbody. John caught him midair, hauling him overhead for an Attitude Adjustment.

"Wait a minute—that's Luke Gallows and Serena climbing into the ring!" Jerry called, dumbstruck. "What are they doing in there?"

"What's it look like they're doing?" Erin asked darkly, starting to rise.

"Erin, you're not cleared to wrestle yet—you're going to get killed in there!" Mike protested.

"And I think the three-on-one issue may be taken care of," Jerry remarked, excited, pointing to the three figures running down the ramp, their distinctive black-and-pink uniforms marking them as the Hart Dynasty. Natalya went straight for Serena, throwing her bodily from the ring and going after her immediately. David and Tyson grabbed Luke's ankles, dragging him from the ring.

"Would you look at that—David Hart Smith and Tyson Kidd are holding off Luke Gallows!" Mike called, astonished. "And Natalya Neidhart is just letting Serena have it!"

She noticed, with approval, that neither David nor Tyson nor Natalya did anything more than keep Luke and Serena away from the ring. As they watched, John threw Punk down, waving his hand in front of his face.

"You can't see me!" the crowd chanted, as John performed the five-knuckle shuffle before dragging Punk into the STF, locking it in as he gritted his teeth. Punk tapped out within seconds, and the bell rang instantly. Erin grinned, standing up to applaud.

"Your winner, and still champion—John Cena!" Justin announced. John hopped out of the ring before the referee could hold up his hand, making his way over to Erin.

"I made you a promise," John reminded her, and Erin smiled nervously. John winked at her, pulling her in swiftly and dipping her back to kiss her. Distantly, Erin heard the crowd erupt in cheers, and she smiled against John's lips.

"I think they liked it," she informed him.

"Not nearly as much as I did," John replied, cupping her cheek with one hand. "Come on. Let's go." Erin laughed, and he grabbed her hand as they ran out.

* * *

A/N: I'm so incredibly sorry that I didn't post yesterday! I'm posting two chapters today to show you how much I love y'all. I know this one's short; I've been really busy this week. I'll have some good, exciting stuff for you next week, though. Read and review, please!


	17. Take It Like a Woman

As weeks passed without retribution for the fact that she'd beaten CM Punk quite soundly, Erin remained wary for an attack from the Straight Edge Society. However, after being informed by Vince McMahon himself that she would be opening the show, she couldn't help but let down her guard a little, and went out on Raw at the beginning of the show with an infectious smile.

"Seattle, Washington, how y'all doing tonight?" Erin called. The crowd roared back, and Erin laughed. "I'm so glad to be back here, uninjured, and I really can't wait to start wrestling again. I guess it's a leftover habit from the Marines—never sit around. So—" She was cut off abruptly as unfamiliar music rang out, and she looked to the ramp, confused, unable to see the man who stood there clearly.

"For those who don't know me, I'm Spencer Pratt," he announced. Erin rolled her eyes. "And I'm tonight's Raw guest host. You'll find out about the matches I've set up as the night goes on, but I wanted to interrupt Miss Harris here."

"Now why would you want to do an idiotic thing like that?" Erin demanded, affronted, as he made his way to the ring, ducking under the ropes with an arrogant smirk.

"Nobody actually supports the military anymore," Spencer informed her. "And women shouldn't be in the military anyway. Get back in the kitchen where you belong."

There was a loud thud as Erin dropped her microphone, borrowing Edge's signature move as she speared Spencer, knocking him to the ground. The crowd roared in approval as she climbed to the top of the corner ropes, back to the ring. She put one hand to her ear, listening as they began to chant for the G.I. Jane. With a triumphant smile, she complied, pulling her arms in and spinning quickly, landing squarely on Spencer's chest, rising as her smile turned into a wicked grin. She picked up her microphone, staring down at him.

"Nobody actually likes you," she informed him. "You're an egocentric jerk with a severe Napolean complex. Go back to the trailer park where you belong." She lowered the microphone, ready to leave the ring. Behind her, unseen, CM Punk slipped under the ropes, catching her ankles and yanking her to the ground. Her microphone clattered to the cement below the mats as he hauled her up into the Go to Sleep, dropping her onto his knee. Erin's head snapped back as she flew into the ropes, and Serena quickly climbed over her, wrapping her arms and legs around Erin's outstretched arms to hold them against the ropes.

"No one insults the Straight Edge Society," CM Punk seethed. "And no one—no one—insults CM Punk without paying for it." He drove blow after blow into her head and ribcage until she could only hang limply, eyes unfocused. Serena finally unwound herself, allowing Erin to collapse to the mats before falling out of the ring. They left her there, in a crumpled heap, and exited without another word. In the ring, Spencer Pratt finally rose, staring down at her.

"You're still fighting the Big Show," he said quickly, staggering out of the ring and up the ramp before she could do anything. Erin didn't move, the crowd watching her silently even when John Cena barreled down the ramp, skidding to a halt next to her. Erin let out a soft whimper as he rolled her over, trying to help her up.

"Come on, G.I. Jane," he insisted quietly, managing to pull her into a seated position. She lay against the side of the ring, eyes closed, head still lolling to one side. "Come on." Erin groaned, pushing off the floor as much as she could. John levered one arm over his shoulder, essentially hauling her upright. Erin leaned almost all her weight on him, limping as he helped her out of the arena.

Backstage, he helped her onto the couch, laying her down gently.

"My ribs," Erin managed, fingers fumbling at the hem of her t-shirt. John pulled it carefully over her head, hissing in sympathy as he saw the purpling bruise that spread across her ribcage.

"I brought ice," Beth called, ducking in with arms full of bags of ice. "Can I kill Serena now?"

"No, you may not," Erin gasped out. "She's brainwashed. There will be no killing. I'll just make CM Punk wish he was dead by the time I'm done with him."

"That's my girl," John said quietly, laying the ice across her ribcage. She flinched away from the coldness, but held as still as she could. "Although it might take you a while to be uninjured enough for that."

"Aren't you supposed to be fighting Big Show?" Beth asked.

"According to Captain Douchebag out there, yes," Erin replied, finally beginning to catch her breath.

"How exactly do you intend to do that?" Beth demanded. "You just took one of the worst cheapshot beatings in WWE history. You've got a bruise the size of Texas and a black eye. Do you really think you can last longer than five seconds against the World's Largest Athlete?"

"I'm sure as hell going to try," Erin retorted. "I don't quit for anything, Beth, you know that." Beth sighed.

"I do," she agreed reluctantly. She turned to John, trying to smile. "You should have seen her back in high school. She didn't hit five feet until junior year, but she gave the boys on the wrestling team a run for their money. She took on anybody who came. She was all of 4'8" and a freshman, but she took on the captain of the football team when he beat up a kid with learning disabilities."

"Did she win?" John asked, curious.

"I gave him two black eyes, chicken-winged him, and shoved his head into the dirt until he agreed to apologize to the kid and admit what he'd done to the school administrators," Erin informed him. John snickered, and Erin smiled, embarrassed.

"I take that means you're still fighting Big Show, then?" Beth asked, resigned. Erin nodded, wincing at the headache it caused. "I'll go get the aspirin." She picked up the partially-melted ice bags, carrying them out with her. John took a seat on the couch next to her as Beth left.

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?" he offered teasingly. Erin smiled mischievously, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to her level. He cradled her head gently, brushing kisses over her bruises before finding her lips with his. Erin winced as he leaned on her bruised ribs, and he pulled back quickly. "Sorry, sorry." He bent down to kiss those bruises instead, looking up mischievously at her as he did so.

"Get a room, you two," Beth called. John sat up quickly, and Erin shrugged.

"Just because your Teddy-bear isn't here is no excuse to get all jealous," she informed her friend. Beth shook her head.

"Watch it, Snow White," she warned. She handed over the aspirin, and Erin downed six of them in a single dry-swallow.

"Do you want either of us to come out there with you?" John asked, sliding his hand along her torso absently.

"I want to go myself," Erin said stubbornly. "He needs help to take me on, but I'm proving to him I'm more than capable of taking him down myself."

"Alright," Beth agreed reluctantly. "Ready?" Erin nodded, allowing John to help her upright. She took a few experimental steps, testing her legs. Her hip seemed out of place, and didn't move as it was supposed to.

"You've probably dislocated it," a passing trainer informed her, peering in. "Sorry to interrupt. But I can pop that back in place."

"Please," Erin said gratefully, laying down at the trainer's instruction. The trainer lifted the leg, rotating it slowly before pushing up and in, popping the bone back in place. Erin let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"No problem," the trainer replied, smiling as she rose. "I have to go look at Kelly's shoulder, so I'll see you later, I'm sure." And with that, she was gone, and Erin levered herself to her feet with less effort.

"I'll walk you to the ramp, at least," John insisted, taking her hand in his. Erin smiled, resting her head against his shoulder as they walked. "If he tries anything, I'm coming out, alright?"

"I have no problem with that," Erin agreed, rising on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek swiftly as they reached the ramp. The soundboard operators hastily switched on her music, and she limped slowly down the ring, climbing carefully into the ring.

"I'm sure all of you saw what just happened," she said flatly, her voice ice-cold and furious. She indicated the bruises on her ribcage. "I've got some marvelous bruises. My hip actually was dislocated, and the trainers popped it back in, but it doesn't feel great. In fact, it feels the opposite of great, but I'm not here to talk about me. I'm here to talk about CM Punk." She began to pace the ring, a limp evident in her step, rage emanating from every inch of her body. "I'm pretty sure the 'C' in CM Punk stands for coward after the attack I just received. But I'm a Marine. I'm anything but a coward. So CM Punk, I challenge you to face me one on one. But since you feel that you need to have some sneaky advantage, I'm challenging you to face me in a Bring-Your-Own-Weapons match."

"CM Punk is not a coward," CM Punk retorted angrily, coming out to stand at the top of the ramp. The crowd booed him immediately, but he had no patience for them. "I'll face you in that match any time you like, but you know I'll beat you, because straight-edge means—"

"Straight-edge means jack squat when you're as much of an asshole as you are," Erin replied, drowning him out, to the delight of the crowd. "You'll face me? Good. End of story." She dropped her microphone, climbing slowly and carefully out of the ring. CM Punk was long gone by the time she reached the top of the ramp, limping away carefully. She was too angry even to wave to the crowd as she left, and Beth and John waited for her backstage.

"I don't think I've seen you that angry in a while," Beth commented.

"There are five things that piss me off," Erin answered, storming into the locker room. "People who insult my family, prejudice or stupidity, people who prey on children, apathy, and cowards who attack when your back is turned."

"Erin, I hate to have to say this, but your match against Big Show is in ten," Stephanie called, peering around the door. Erin swore under her breath, grabbing a roll of tape. "I know you never give up, and you never quit, but please, could you forfeit this match? Just step out, and lose by count-out? I don't want you getting hurt worse."

"I could do that," Erin agreed slowly. "Help me tape up, just in case, though, John?" John nodded reluctantly, wrapping her wrists slowly.

"I'll be just backstage, alright?" he promised. "Anything happens, I'll be out there in five seconds." Erin smiled, reaching up to kiss him. John held her waist gently, making sure to keep his hands away from her bruises. He kept his arm around her waist as they walked to the ramp, and Erin stayed slightly behind him as she saw Big Show. He didn't see her, and Erin took deep breath, steadying herself.

"The following is a match set for one fall," Justin Roberts declared. "Entering the ring first, standing at seven feet tall, weighing in at 485 pounds, the Big Show!"

The Big Show made his way to the ring, lumbering heavily down the ramp and stepping effortlessly over the top rope. He stood facing the ramp as his entrance music faded away, replaced by the strains of "Bleed It Out."

"And his challenger, standing five feet three inches, weighing 125 pounds, your very own G.I. Jane—Erin Harris!" Erin made her way out of the back far more slowly than usual, the bruises on her ribcage standing out sharply in the spotlight. She was slightly hunched over as she walked, favoring her right hip. She hi-fived every fan she passed nonetheless, smiling as brightly as she could. Rather than slide into the ring as usual, she climbed the stairs slowly, wincing as she ducked into the ring. She saluted from the center of the ring, watching the Big Show warily.

"Hold up, hold up," Spencer called, standing at the top of the ramp. "I've got one more announcement to make. Erin, should you forfeit this match—should you walk out and get counted out of the ring—your match against CM Punk will be canceled."

"You can't do that!" Erin protested, looking utterly defeated.

"I'm the guest host," Spencer reminded her, smirking. "And I just did." Erin drew herself up wearily, resignedly, settling into a defensive stance.

"Now hold on just one minute," Big Show interrupted, stepping forward. Erin flinched instinctively, but held her position as Spencer came down the ramp, joining them in the ring. "I was not consulted about the creation of this match. I would be more than happy to match strength against speed and fight Miss Harris at some point on Raw. But I refuse to attack an opponent who has been so brutally cheapshotted." He turned back to Erin, extending his hand. "I find it unacceptable for a host to condone the beating of a superstar and then attempt to punish them for protecting themselves from further injury. Miss Harris, I may be vicious in the ring, but I am a competitor above all else. This is not a competition, should you fight in this condition. This would be a slaughter. I am forfeiting this match." Erin stared up at him, astonished, accepting his hand slowly.

"Thank you," she said finally, shaking his hand. "Thank you very much." Big Show nodded gravely, making his way to the ropes. "And—call me Erin." Big Show smiled broadly, nodding once more.

"You get back in this ring right now!" Spencer screamed, irate. "Get back in this ring or—" He was cut off abruptly as the Big Show's hand closed about his throat, lifting him into the air.

"You're rather small to be making threats," he remarked. "And I don't appreciate your treatment of the Raw superstar with whom I am sharing the ring." With that, he threw Spencer to the mat, stepping over him for good measure. He chivalrously held down the second rope, allowing Erin to duck out carefully. When she hesitated, uncertain how a jump to the ground would impact her hip, he jumped down first, lifting her carefully and setting her down just as gently. The two exited the stadium side by side to wild applause.

* * *

A/N: A much longer chapter, and I'm happy to provide it! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Read and review, please!


	18. Be a Shoulder to Lean On

For once, Erin didn't go to SmackDown, going out for dinner with John before watching Die Hard in the suite she shared with Beth. The two were content to do nothing more than sit and talk, and Erin lost count of the number of times he made her laugh in those few hours. When the door opened, Erin fully expected it to be Beth. Instead, Kelly, Nikki, Brie, Eve, Stephanie, and Gail followed her suitemate in, and Erin noticed that Nikki's face was tearstained and her eyes red.

"I'll see you tomorrow," John said quickly, kissing Erin swiftly.

"Thank you," Erin said quietly, smiling up at him. John bent to kiss her once more before he left, nodding politely to the Divas as he did so.

"You're so lucky," Nikki informed her, voice wobbly. "He's so sweet, and considerate, and—" She burst into tears once more, and Brie pulled her twin into a hug.

"I've got chocolate and tissues," Erin said quickly, grabbing the aforementioned items from her bag and leading Nikki to a seat on her bed. "What happened?"

"Jack dumped her," Natalya explained quietly, rubbing slow, calming circles on Nikki's back. "Asshole."

"I just—I wasn't expecting it at all," Nikki sniffed. "He said there's someone else—Rosa. He dumped me for Rosa Mendes."

"Oh, sweetheart," Erin said sympathetically. "You deserve better than that, and you know it."

"We need to get your mind off of it," Beth realized, a slow smile spreading across her face. "We need a girl's night out."

"Girl's night out at the club," Eve agreed, her smile every bit as broad as Beth's. "What do you think, Nikki?"

"I don't have anything to wear that doesn't remind me of him," Nikki sniffled.

"I've got the perfect dress for you," Erin informed her, wrinkling her nose after a moment's pause. "Never thought I'd hear those words come out of my mouth. Come on—what do you say?"

"Come on, Nikki—let's show him you don't need him," Brie urged her twin.

"Alright," Nikki agreed with a small smile. She wiped the last of her tears away, and Erin handed her a dress from the closet.

"Here. Put this on," she ordered. She paused, hugging Nikki tightly for a moment before handing over the dress. Nikki disappeared into the bathroom obediently, coming out moments later in a shimmering silver minidress, strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice. Intricate mirror-bright silver designs made her skin glow, and Erin held up a pair of matching heels.

"That pretty much screams 'I'm sexy and single, come and get me,'" Natalya informed her, grinning. Her little black dress was every bit as sexy, with white lace detailing on the sweetheart bodice. "Erin, come on—you have to get dressed too!" Erin threw up her hands, retreating into the bathroom herself. She texted John quickly, informing him of the change in plans, before changing into a cloud-grey cocktail dress with a lace overlay of the same shade, short and sexy with a high neckline but a plunging, open back and kimono-like sleeves. Her heels were red, in sharp contrast to the muted shade of her dress, and she smiled, embarrassed, as Beth whistled.

"I've got the alcohol!" Eve called.

"And I've got the mixers," Gail added.

"Alright, here's the deal," Stephanie said loudly, drawing their attention. "Jack Swagger is an idiot for dumping you. As such, we are going to go out and demonstrate to him just how much of an idiot he is. You are going to flirt, dance, and have the most fantastically awesome time out. The boys are at the club, but tonight's about you, not them. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Nikki laughed.

"Anybody in particular you've got your eye on?" Gail asked. "Don't give that look. You're not blind, and there are hot, nearly naked guys on every WWE show."

"Well," Nikki said slowly. "I always though Cody Rhodes was kind of cute."

"He is the sweetest guy ever!" Erin exclaimed, linking arms with Nikki quickly. "He also has a major weakness for black hair, and he thinks you're absolutely gorgeous." Nikki twined her black curls around one finger nervously, smiling.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really really," Erin promised, smiling. "He told me when we were playing Zelda that if he could hook up with any girl in the WWE, it would be you. And I'll introduce you to him."

"I could definitely go for that," Nikki said shyly, and Erin laughed. "Are we ready to go?"

"You bet," Kelly agreed. Brie quickly linked arms with Nikki, and the girls ushered her out the door. Erin glanced down at her phone, smiling at John's response, and followed the others out.

"I'll call the cabs!" Beth offered.

"Hey, Nikki," Erin began, her voice mischievous. "Want to ride the motorcycle there?"

"Is that an actual question?" Nikki asked, grinning for the first time that night. "Of course I want to ride your motorcycle!"

"We'll meet you girls at the club," Erin informed them, stealing Nikki away from her sister. "We've got a motorcycle to look sexy while riding." Nikki laughed as Erin handed over a helmet, climbing onto the motorcycle behind Erin.

"I've never ridden a motorcycle before," Nikki admitted nervously, clinging to Erin's waist.

"All you have to do is hold on," Erin promised, kick-starting her motorcycle. "Here we go!" Nikki's grip tightened as Erin pulled out slowly. "Relax!" Slowly, Nikki's death grip loosened, and by the time they reached the club, she was laughing.

"That was awesome!" she exclaimed, placing her helmet on one of the handlebars before heading out front to wait for the others. "Thanks, Erin."

"Anytime you want a ride, just let me know," Erin replied, hugging the black-haired girl tightly. "Oh, look—there's the rest of the girls."

"Are you girls ready to party?" Beth called, leading the other Divas over.  
"Sweetheart, I am always ready to party," Gail reminded her, grinning wickedly. "Nikki, you ready?" Nikki took a deep breath, smiling bravely.

"Let's go," she ordered, leading the way into the club. The superstars all turned to look as they walked in, but Nikki ignored them, joining the Divas on the dance floor. Erin slipped away, whispering something into Cody's ear before taking John's hand, pulling him out onto the dance floor.

"I wasn't expecting to dance tonight," John murmured, his lips just behind her ear.

"Me neither," Erin admitted. "But Jack just dumped Nikki, and we couldn't let her sit and mope all night."

"I like your solution," John informed her, smiling.

"I gave her a ride here on my motorcycle," Erin replied. John's smile broadened, and he bent down to kiss her.

"I _really_ like your solution," he said, an amused note entering his voice. "And I think those guys over there are checking you out."

Erin glanced up sharply, seeing a cluster of college-age guys at the bar, not-so-subtly staring at her. A slow, mischievous smile slid across her face as she turned, grabbing John's collar with both hands and pulling him down for a kiss that made the Divas cheer and the superstars whistle loudly. She laughed quietly as he pulled her back to her feet, waving to the boys at the bar before turning back to John.

"I'm taken," she replied simply, and John chuckled. "Well, would you look at that." John turned slightly, looking over his shoulder, and saw Nikki in Cody's arms, dancing, lost in their own world.

"Good for them," John said approvingly, grinning. "And nice matchmaking." Erin waggled her eyebrows teasingly. "Since the mission of the night seems to be accomplished, want to go back and look at the stars?"

"Of course!" Erin replied, waving quickly to the Divas as she nearly dragged John out of the club in her eagerness. "Hey—do you want to drive?"

"Is that really a question?" John retorted, taking the keys from her eagerly. Erin chuckled, rising on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before grabbing her helmet. As she swung onto the seat behind him, John ran one hand up her bare leg, smiling wickedly. Erin laughed, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"That's why I don't wear dresses on motorcycles," she whispered, her lips just next to his ear.

"Mmm…you should do it more often," John informed her, revving the engine. "I have no objection whatsoever to you wearing dresses while on a motorcycle."

"I wonder why?" Erin asked sarcastically, though she was laughing.

"Because you're sexy," John said promptly, raising his voice to be heard over the engine.

"I'll consider it," Erin replied, sliding her hands down to untuck his shirt and back up his bare torso, "That is, if you'll consider riding shirtless."

"I have no problem whatsoever with that," John informed her, chuckling. "In fact, I'd rather enjoy that." Erin couldn't help but laugh, though she kept her hands against his skin as she leaned close, resting her head against his back. She nearly fell asleep several times on the trip back, and John shook her awake as they parked. "Come on, sleepyhead. Maybe we'll watch the stars another night."

"Could we sleep on the roof?" Erin asked sleepily. "Under the stars?"

"Sure," John laughed. "I'll bring the blankets. You go ahead up." Erin smiled drowsily, taking the elevator. It was only when she reached the roof that she realized she was still in her dress and heels, and she sighed, kicking off the shoes.

"I'm pretty sure one of my shirts will be like a nightgown on you," John called, tossing one of his "Hustle—Loyalty—Respect" t-shirts to her. "Always prepared, right?"

"You're amazing," Erin said gratefully. She slipped out of her dress, folding it neatly before and exchanging it for John's too-big tee. It fell to her midthigh, and her bare toes curled against the cold floor as she looked up at John, who had laid out the blankets and pillows.

"You look good in my shirt," he informed her, and Erin giggled as she joined him under the covers, her bare legs brushing against the cotton of his sweatpants as she did so. "There's something unbelievably sexy about seeing your girlfriend in your shirt." Erin blushed, and John laughed softly.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that," she remarked.

"What, that you're sexy?" John asked.

"Well, I don't really mind that either," Erin admitted. "But I was talking about the part where you call me your girlfriend, actually."

"I like that part, too," John murmured, pulling her close. Erin snuggled against him, looking up at the stars.

"Tell me some more constellations?" she asked quietly. John chuckled.

"How about the zodiac signs?" he asked.

"I'd like that," Erin replied drowsily.

"We'll start with Aquarius," John said, raising his hand to indicate a loop and a line that vaguely resembled a spoon. "That's the Water-Bearer. Right next to it is Pisces, the Fish. I don't see how it looks like a fish, though. Looks more like a checkmark to me."

"Maybe a salmon jumping upstream?" Erin offered, shifting her position to get a better look, and John laughed.

"See those two lines—right above Orion?" he asked, tracing two lines in the sky. "That's Gemini, the twins. That's Pollux on the left, and Castor on the right. And go a little to the right, and that's Taurus, the Bull."

"I'm not seeing a bull," Erin said, puzzled.

"If you want to see a constellation that really looks nothing like its name, try Aries, the Ram. Right next to Pisces," John remarked.

"That looks nothing like a sheep," Erin laughed. John chuckled in agreement.

"Go a little to the left of Gemini, and you can see Cancer, the Crab," he went on. "Again, looks nothing like a crab. I'm starting to think Greek astrologists may have been blind."

"That would explain a lot," Erin replied solemnly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"The next three are right next to each other—Leo the Lion, then Virgo the Virgin, then Libra the Scales," John said, pointing to each of them in turn. Erin followed his hand, blinking sleepily. "If you look next to Libra, then there's Scorpio the Scorpion, and Sagittarius the Archer."

"You know, I can actually see a scorpion and a bow," Erin remarked, smiling slightly. "Is that all of them?"

"That's it," John replied.

"I can't believe I didn't fall asleep," Erin mumbled, curling up against him. John wrapped his arms around her protectively, adjusting the blankets. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, beautiful," John said quietly, kissing her dark curls before settling back into the blankets himself.

* * *

A/N: Yay, fluffiness! I had fun writing this chapter, honestly. I think a little bit of sappiness is healthy, every now and then, honestly. But don't tell anyone else I said that—they all think I'm an exceptionally practical, cynical person. Shh!

Also, I know a lot of stories have Nikki and Brie as skanky famewhores, but I can't hate on them if only because they used to play soccer (and I play, and love it). Thank you so much to everybody who's been reviewing! I'll try and write back to y'all if you promise to keep reviewing for me... :)

Miss Write Away: I know, I know, he's been out of the picture a little while...I promise he'll be back VERY soon.

Straight-Edge Anime Wolf: I KNOW! I can't stand Speidi (together or apart). So that was rather cathartic to write...lol.

Read and review, please!


	19. Dish It Out

Somehow, John and Erin's adventure went unnoticed by the hotel staff, and they snuck back to John's room the next morning to return the blankets and pillows to his bed. The weekend entailed, as usual, workouts and practices. The Divas all took the time to stay with Nikki, who not only seemed to be getting over Jack, but also had a date with Cody for the following Wednesday.

When Monday came around, Nikki asked for another ride on the motorcycle, and Erin couldn't turn her down. Knowing that her weapons match with Punk was that night, she arrived extra early, finding an open locker room and going through several katas to warm up.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Randy walking by, a silver belt over his shoulder. Confused, she leaned out the door, catching sight of Eve.

"Hey, Eve!" she called.

"Yes?" Eve replied.

"When did Randy get a title belt?" Erin asked.

"I guess nobody mentioned on Friday, what with Nikki so upset and all," Eve remarked. "First thing Randy Orton did after coming back—he invaded SmackDown, said he could go anywhere since he would have to be re-signed to a brand, challenged Kane for the title—and got it. He's the new World Heavyweight Champion."

"Wonderful," Erin said dryly. "Now he'll go around bragging for the next month."

"Or until somebody takes it from him," Eve suggested. Erin smiled.

"I'd be glad to do the favor, but I'm trying to be the bigger person—I'm not attacking him without provocation," she replied. "Sure, I'd love a title, and sure, I'll challenge him to a match at some point, but it won't be out of vengeance or anything. I got my payback already. When I can challenge him just as another wrestler, and not because I'm angry, I'll do it. I'm still too angry right now. Besides, I've got my match with Punk to worry about tonight."

"You're a much bigger person than I'll ever be," Eve informed her, shaking her head. "Need help getting taped?"

"Yes, please," Erin replied, laughing. Eve grabbed the tape from the shelf, and Erin held out her wrists obediently. Eve wrapped them quickly, smiling mischievously as she wrote "G.I. Jane" on the back of Erin's hands. "You're the best, Eve."

"You know it," Eve said, her lips quirking upwards. "Now go kick Punk's ass, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Erin laughed, saluting her friend before grabbing her hanbo and making her way to the ramp.

"Hey, Erin!" Steve called. Erin glanced over, grinning at him as she held up her taped hands. "Ready for your match?"

"Can't wait," Erin confessed, laughing.

"Hey—I brought you something," Steve said quickly, handing over a small box. "Snapdragons—you know, those ones you throw on the ground, they make a loud bang, all that jazz. No particular reason; just thought you might like miniature explosions."

"You are awesome, did you know that?" Erin replied, grinning broadly. "Can you hold onto it for me? I'll grab it after the match."

"You bet," Steve promised. "Oh, look. There goes Cuddle Monkey."

"Cuddle Monkey?" Erin asked slowly, confused.

"'CM,'" Steve explained. "After you and Jerry and Mike started trying to guess what it stood for, we did some hypothesizing of our own. We've decided it stands for Cuddle Monkey."

"Good plan," Erin laughed, shaking her head.

"The following is a No-Disqualification Bring-Your-Own-Weapons match," Justin announced from the ring. "Making his way to the ring now, weighing 222 pounds, using brass knuckles as his weapon of choice, CM Punk!" Even behind the wall, Erin could hear the boos that filled the stadium, and had to smile. She twirled her hanbo absentmindedly as she waited.

"He took Luke and Serena out," Beth commented, coming up behind her. "Luke's got a Kendo stick over one shoulder, and Serena's carrying another set of brass knuckles, so I'm pretty sure they're going to throw the match."

"I can take three," Erin said grimly, twirling the hanbo quicker and quicker.

"Yes, but we'd prefer not to leave that to chance," John commented, holding a baseball bat over his shoulder. Erin turned, realizing that Beth was carrying a hammer.

"I borrowed it from Hunter," Beth said in response to her questioning stare. "He said I could use it as long as I hit CM Punk at some point."

"You don't come in unless they do," Erin warned, resigned.

"Of course," John agreed. Beth nodded, and Erin shook her head. As Linkin Park began to play, Erin stepped out hastily, followed quickly by John and Beth

"Making her way to the ring now, the challenger, weighing in at 125 pounds, using a hanbo as her weapon of choice, Erin Harris!" Jerry called. Erin stamped her staff down at her left side, saluting with her right hand. The crowd roared in approval, and she grinned, taking off her hat and tossing it.

"Jerry, just what is a hanbo?" Mike asked.

"Mike, I asked Erin the same question," Jerry replied.

"She actually talked to you?" Mike ribbed, wincing under the strength of the glare thrown his way.

"According to her, the hanbo is a traditional Japanese short-staff weapon used in traditional martial arts," Jerry replied. "Usually, it measures about one yard long, but hers is custom made, because she was too short for a staff that length."

"Erin has a background in martial arts, correct?" Mike commented.

"Kajukenbo," Jerry replied.

"Bless you," Mike said.

"It's a type of martial arts, Mike," Jerry informed him. "She uses it as part of her training regimen, evidently."

Erin stepped into the ring, staff held easily at her side, ignoring CM Punk's sneering glare. After shrugging off her dog tags and t-shirt, she hung them on the corner pole, turning back casually. As the bell rang, she dropped into a fighter's crouch, waiting for him to charge. Predictably, he did, and she planted the pole into the ground, pushing off and driving both feet into CM Punk's chest. He landed hard, and she performed a graceful aerial cartwheel, bringing the hanbo up and over her head, settling into a defensive position once more as he rose. He charged her again, and she simply stepped aside, whacking him across the back with her hanbo as he passed her and sending him headfirst into the corner pole.

When he rose, he came at her more slowly, more cautiously. Erin swept her staff down and around, knocking his legs from under him. When he fell, she rolled onto him for the pin. He kicked out easily at two, and Erin kept her hanbo between them as she vaulted to her feet. Before she could attack, a small hand grabbed her ankle as Serena reached up, yanking her down. Her hanbo slipped free, tumbling to the ground below. Erin rolled into the corner, moving away from CM Punk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Beth running forward, hammer raised over her head. Serena screamed, running away. Beth chased her clear up the ramp and out of the stadium. Erin only just rolled out of the way in time, scrabbling frantically for her hanbo as CM Punk dragged her into the center of the ring, driving blow after blow into her head. She shoved a frantic hand upwards into his sternum, knocking him backwards as he gasped for breath. John lunged quickly for her staff, but Luke stepped on it as he went to lift it, snapping it cleanly in two along the grain without a single jagged edge. Before John could respond, Beth was back, slamming her hammer into Luke's kidney. He dropped like a stone, and John picked up the two halves of Erin's hanbo. Staggering to her feet, eyes slightly unfocused, Erin tried to get her bearings, searching for something to focus on. She swiped one hand over her eyes, finding blood on her fingertips as she brushed over her right eye. Annoyed, she ignored the blood trickling down her cheek. The stadium slowly ceased spinning as she focused on her dog tags, swinging slowly back and forth. Her mind clear once more, Erin leaned over the top rope, taking both halves of her hanbo and twirling them experimentally.

"This'll do," she gasped, ducking under Punk's wild swing and bringing both halves of her broken hanbo down the space between his collarbone and shoulderblade. His arm drooped, going numb from the force of the strike. Erin shook her head, trying to keep it clear. Drops of blood flecked the mat as she did so, and she brushed the cut over her eye once more before blocking a punch from CM Punk's good arm, catching his wrist between the halves of her hanbo. She dropped, twisting them to pull his arm and throw him to the ground. She went for her second pin, and he only just managed to kick out in time. Undeterred, she smacked his other shoulder in the same spot as before, numbing his good arm. She tossed the halves of her hanbo aside as she drop-kicked him, knocking CM Punk to the ground once more. Without a moment's hesitation, she bounced onto the top rope, performing her signature G.I. Jane from the corner and immediately pulling his leg in for the pin. The bell rang as the referee counted CM Punk out, and Erin staggered upright, grinning despite the blood that continued to trickle down her face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winner—Erin Harris!" Beth bounced into the ring, still holding her hammer even as she hugged Erin. Behind them, CM Punk rose slowly, flexing his fingers carefully as feeling returned to his arms.

"Behind you!" John roared, trying to get into the ring in time. Beth turned, driving her hammer into CM Punk's solar plexus and knocking him to the ground.

"Don't even think about getting up," she warned him. John slid into the ring, glaring down at Punk before taking Erin's hand and raising it high. She shook her head once more, sprinkling blood across the mats once more. John quickly tore off one of his sleeves and pressed it against the cut just above her eyebrow. Erin shrugged, sliding her hand under his to hold it in place.

"How bad is it?" she asked quietly, allowing Beth to hold down the bottom rope to give her more space to climb out.

"Not long, but deep," John replied. "Dr. Porcelan can stitch you up."

"Alright," Erin said, ducking out of the ring. "I better get anesthesia, though."

"I thought you didn't do anything that altered your mental state," Beth teased.

"First, that blocks nerve perception of pain, not the brain processing pain," Erin replied sincerely. "Second, if I'm getting a needle stuck into my forehead, I want something to numb the pain."

"You make a good argument," John remarked.

"Damn straight I do," she grumbled, following him into the training room.

"I saw what happened—I've already got the supplies ready," Dr. Porcelan said immediately, patting one of the tables. "Hop up. I'll have you stitched up in no time." She injected a local anesthetic quickly, allowing it to take effect before sewing the cut closed quickly and neatly. "There. Give them a week, and then I'll remove them. No wrestling until then—yes, you can still practice."

"Can I go?" Erin asked impatiently. "We've got a double date to head to."

"Go ahead," Dr. Porcelan laughed. "I'll see you soon enough." Erin hopped off the table, joining Beth as they headed back to the locker room.

"John, can you grab Ted and meet us outside?" Beth asked. "We won't be long."

"No problem," John replied, and Beth dragged Erin into the locker room. Erin grabbed a dress from her locker, tossing her uniform in the laundry bin and slipping into the dress instead. The long, cotton dress was swirled with varied shades of green, and a strappy halter neckline held it in place. Beth wore a shorter, darker dress in a rich plum hue, and the girls were ready in minutes.

"And here there's guys complaining that girls take forever," John remarked, impressed. His forest green button-down and dark jeans were the perfect complement to her outfit, and Ted waited at the car outside.

"We're quickety-quick, remember?" Erin teased, and John laughed as they headed out.

* * *

A/N: Okay, this one was even more fun than the last chapter to write. I love a good fight scene…lol. Read and review, please!


	20. Learn to Relax

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Beth chirped. "Come on. Today's the day we go to the spa!"

"Beth, why are you shaking my pillow?" Erin asked, coming out of the bathroom. Beth looked up, startled. "I went for my run already," she explained. "What's this about the spa?"

"We're using those gift certificates today," Beth informed her, throwing a summer white dress at her. "And I'm driving. We leave in five, so get dressed."

"Yes, drill sergeant Beth," Erin laughed, braiding her hair quickly before slipping into the dress and a pair of sandals. Beth nearly dragged her out the door, and they were on their way in moments. "The spa's about five minutes away, but I really wanted to drive today," Beth said by way of explanation. Erin smiled.

"Beth, I don't think I've been in your jeep since high school. Feel free to drive anytime you want," she replied. Beth grinned, bouncing over the speed bump on their way out of the parking lot. A valet awaited them at the front of the spa, taking the keys Beth tossed to him.

"I've never been to a spa," Erin confessed. Beth laughed.

"I'm not entirely surprised, to be honest," she replied. "Don't worry; I've got it all planned out."

"Alright, so what's first on the agenda?" Erin asked, linking arms with Beth.

"We'll start with a volcanic mud facial while soaking in a milk-and-honey bath," Beth began.

"They actually fill up an entire bath with milk and honey?" Erin asked, bewildered. Beth nodded.

"Now shush and listen. Then there's a cocoa oil massage, and a ginger vanilla mani/pedi with a paraffin wax treatment," Beth ticked off. "We'll take a break for lunch after the massage—they make an amazing grilled pheasant with currant, golden beets, and spaghetti squash."

"If you say so," Erin said dubiously. Beth laughed, slinging her arm around Erin's shoulders instead.

"It'll be fun, don't worry," she promised. "Besides, it all smells really good. We have to put these on, though." She handed Erin a plain white bikini, stripping and changing. Erin followed suit, taking the fluffy robe hung next to the door as Beth did the same. "Into the land of milk and honey we go!" Two attendants took their robes as they descended into the warm pool, tilting their heads back to the sun.

"Hold still, please," the first attendant requested, kneeling next to Erin to apply a rich layer of volcanic mud to their faces before covering their closed eyes with cucumber slices.

"If you need anything, just call for us," the second attendant added.

"So now what?" Erin asked, settling comfortably into her seat.

"We wait for about fifteen minutes," Beth replied. "You saw the showers next to this tub, right? We go there next, and rinse the masks and milk-and-honey off."

"So what do we do for fifteen minutes?" Erin asked.

"Just sit here," Beth replied patiently. "Talk about girly things. Bask in the lovely warmth."

"I don't do girly, Beth," Erin protested.

"You're here, aren't you?" Beth retorted. Erin shrugged, and the motion sent a ripple across the tub that Beth felt. "So you agree. Good."

"So how are you and Ted?" Erin threw back, trying to change the subject.

"He's really having a hard time with his father," Beth confessed. "He doesn't just want to be the Million Dollar Man's son—he wants to be known for his own merits."

"And what do you think?" Erin asked.

"I think he's got plenty of merits," Beth replied, grinning. "And I think he really can be his own person."

"Good for you," Erin laughed, and the two girls leaned back, enjoying the warmth, their hands still clasped under the tub's surface.

"Ladies?" the attendants said, coming over. "Follow us, please." Erin and Beth removed the cucumber slices, tossing them into the trash bin beside the pool before entering the showers, allowing the warm, herb-scented water to wash them clean. Their robes awaited them, as did warmed towels to wrap their heads. The attendants led them to a small room with two beds, setting out several bottles of cocoa oil. "Your masseuses will be with you shortly. Please remove your clothes and lay down on the tables, if you would."

"Wait—Beth, do we have to be naked?" Erin asked as the attendants left.

"We can leave the bikinis on," Beth assured her. "I swear, this is going to be the best experience of your life. It's pretty much orgasmic, and a good one might be better than sex."

"I wouldn't know," Erin laughed. "I don't have anything to compare it to."

"Wait—you're still a virgin, Snow?" Beth asked, surprised. Erin shrugged, an odd-looking movement while lying prone on a table.

"I decided to wait until I'm married," she replied simply. "It's a personal thing."

"Well, good for you," Beth replied, impressed.

"Good morning, ladies," the first masseuse called, rubbing her hands. "How are you two doing?"

"Good, thank you," Erin replied politely.

"Wait a minute—you're Erin Harris, and you're Beth Phoenix, right?" the second masseuse asked, eyes wide. "I'm a huge wrestling fan. I love watching you guys."

"Does that mean we get an extra-good massage?" Beth teased.

"You'll always get an extra-good massage here," the second masseuse replied, placing several drops of warm cocoa oil along Erin's spine. "Would it be alright if I undid the clasp on the back of your top? It would make the massage a little easier."

"Of course—thank you for asking," Erin replied, relaxing as the masseuse began to knead her tight, tired muscles. She fell asleep within moments, and awoke only when the masseuse shook her shoulder.

"You still alive down there?" she asked, teasing.

"That was the most amazingly relaxing experience of my life," Erin replied, reclasping her top and slipping into her robe. "Thank you so much."

"You come back here anytime," the masseuse assured her. "You're both welcome here whenever you want."

"Thank you," Erin replied, shaking her hand. "Where to next, Beth?"

"If you'll follow me, ladies, your lunch is ready," the attendant said, popping in. Beth linked arms with Erin as they left, taking seats on lounge chairs beside the pool.

"I fully intend to bask like a salamander," Beth informed her friend, dropping her robe and reclining back in the chair as she grabbed her plate.

"Like a salamander?" Erin asked, laughing.

"Yes. In a very salamander-like fashion," Beth replied stubbornly.

"Alright, then," Erin replied, shaking her head and still laughing. "I, however, will sit here and simply enjoy the sunshine, the company, and this absolutely delicious pheasant."

"Also a good choice," Beth replied, digging into her food with gusto. "Ha. I was right. This is amazing."

"I'm thoroughly enjoying this," Erin agreed.

"So how are you and John?" Beth asked, closing her eyes.

"Absolutely fantastic," Erin replied promptly, then blushed. "I'm really lucky, Beth. He's just an incredible sweetheart, and he's funny, and charming, and dear God can that man kiss." Beth laughed, turning to smile at her friend.

"I'm glad for you, Snow," she said simply. "You deserve someone good for you."

"So do you, Cinderella," Erin reminded her. The two fell into an amicable silence as they finished their meal, remaining in the sunshine's warm glow until an attendant came for them.

"Your clothes are in the changing rooms—we wouldn't want you to mar your manicures or pedicures by dressing afterwards," the attendant explained. "Once you dress, I'll show you to the manicurists." Erin and Beth followed her obediently, discarding their robes for their dresses and slipping into foam sandals. "This way, please."

The manicurists sat on small stools before two large massaging chairs, with small foot-tubs at their bases. Erin sat down carefully, as did Beth, and the attendant placed their purses next to them.

"Thank you for joining us today, ladies," the attendant said, smiling. "Please come back anytime."

"Of course," Beth replied, smiling as well, before allowing the manicurist to take her hands.

Erin's hands tingled as the manicurist dipped her hands in multiple layers of coconut-scented paraffin wax.

"It feels good!" she marveled, surprised.

"The wax keeps your skin soft, and the heat relaxes your muscles," Beth explained. The manicurists performed the same treatment for their feet before covering them with booties and mitts. "Then they'll do a hand and foot massage, and then we'll get our nails painted."

"That reminds me," the manicurist remarked, wheeling over a cart stocked with row after row of nail polishes. "Why don't you ladies go ahead and pick?"

Erin and Beth fell silent, looking through for the perfect color.

"What one are you wearing?" Erin asked, still looking.

"This purple-blue one," Beth replied, pointing to it with one wax-and-mitt-covered hand. "Dating a Royal. No pun intended, though." Erin chuckled, picking out a color at last.

"I think I'm going to wear this one—Mad as a Hatter," she decided. The shade was metallic black, with multicolored confetti-like specks. "What do you think?"

"Totally you," Beth agreed. "Plus, it just looks really fun, which is never a bad thing."

"May I have your hands, please, ladies?" the manicurists requested. Erin held out her hands, allowing her mitts to be removed. The manicurist placed her wax-covered feet into the small tub at the foot of the chair, allowing the soothing whirlpool motion of the warm water to wash them clean. The paraffin wax was removed from her hands as well, and the manicurist began to massage her hands with a coconut-scented oil that warmed upon contact. Erin's hands were soft and supple by the time the manicurist was done, and she placed both hands on the table as her nails were painted. Her feet received the same treatment, and Erin was practically in a state of nirvana by the time she was done.

"So what do you think, Snow—do we have to do this again sometime?" Beth asked, smiling.

"You bet," Erin agreed, laughing. "Especially if we've got gift certificates for it."

"I like not having to pay for it," Beth agreed, linking arms with Erin. "My car should be pulled up out front by now—ready to go?"

"Yup," Erin replied, grinning. "I can't wait to show John."

"Well, you look gorgeous—do you have a match tonight?" Beth asked.

"Vince gave me the night off, actually. I think I'm going to act as John's valet tonight," Erin replied. "He's got a match against Randy."

"That explains everything, then," Beth laughed. "You'd never miss a chance to see Randy get his ass kicked."

"Nope," Erin replied, unrepentant. "Come on. I want to actually put on makeup before we have to leave."

"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," Beth marveled, wiping a fake tear from her eye in a gesture of mockery. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Oh, can it," Erin grumbled, though she was smiling. Beth laughed, the engine roaring to life as they pulled out of the parking lot, eyes sparkling, the street echoing with their laughter.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know…it's a filler chapter. I needed to put something in between last chapter and the next one. Plus, I spoiled you with two chapters last week. But I promise, the next one will be AWESOME and EPIC and GAME-CHANGING. (And yes, the Caps-Lock was necessary. It's that awesome/epic/game-changing) Read and review, please!


	21. Bounce Back

Erin walked down the hall at Superstars, wearing, as was her custom when not competing, a dress—short, white, and summery, with a flirty, floaty skirt and an empire waistline. She went barefoot, and the flower in her hair and the smile on her face made her appear years younger.

"Eve, have you seen John anywhere?" she asked.

"I think he was down in the locker room," Eve called. "His match is coming up, I think. I take you're off tonight?"

"I get to just sit there and look pretty," Erin laughed.

"Well, you do look very pretty," Eve assured her. "Go find John. He'll love to see you."

"Thanks," Erin called over her shoulder, continuing down the hall. She made sure to knock before ducking into the locker room.

"I thought you were off tonight!" John said, surprised, as he saw who was entering.

"I was planning to come anyway, but I thought I might walk you down the ring, if that's alright?" Erin asked. John looked at her properly, his eyes lingering on her bare legs.

"I don't mind at all," he informed her, a slow smile spreading across his face. Erin blushed, grabbing a roll of tape. "And I don't need to tape up just yet." He took the tape, setting it down as he stepped forward, backing her against the wall.

"You don't need to warm up?" Erin asked, her low and teasing.

"I think this should warm me up plenty," John replied, his voice equally quiet. Erin smiled, wickedly, wrapping one hand around his neck and pulling him down to her mouth. John allowed her to do so without protest, sliding his hands over her hips and leaning in to kiss her. His hands slid lower, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his hip.

"This counts as cardio, doesn't it?" he asked her, his voice a husky whisper, teasing her neck with his lips and tongue as he did so. Erin sighed breathily, sliding her hands around his torso to run slender fingers over the taut muscles of his back.

"If your heart's racing as much as mine, then yes," she murmured, moving her lips over his ear. "We could make it strength training by having me resist, if you'd like."

"But I'll always win," he said wickedly, holding both wrists above her head and pinning her between his body and the wall. "I'm a hell of a lot stronger than you."

"And I'm far more flexible than you'll ever be," she whispered, sliding teasingly down his torso until she slipped around him, catlike, splaying her hands against the wall on either side of him and moving her hips in a way that made him groan. Shifting and sliding her back against the wall once more, John smiled wickedly before sliding a hand up her leg and ravishing her mouth in a long, hot kiss.

"Everything okay in there?" Kofi called, banging on the door. "John, your match is in ten, so you might want to tape up." John stepped back hastily, allowing Erin to grab the roll of tape he had set down. Erin grinned, embarrassed, but began to tape him up quickly.

"I'll be right out," John called back, offering Erin his arm as she finished. "Ready to go?"

"Depends," Erin replied. "Am I still blushing?"

"Splendidly," John informed her, brushing one cheek. "But on you, it looks good."

"Flatterer," Erin muttered, following him out the door nonetheless. "Are you ready?"

"Never been readier," he replied grimly, nodding to Kofi as they left. "Let's go."

The familiar strains of "The Time is Now" echoed throughout the stadium as John stepped onto the ramp, Erin at his side. She released his arm as he saluted, hi-fiving the crowd as they made their way down the ramp.

"Kick his ass," Erin whispered, kissing him on the cheek as he climbed into the ring. She made her way to the announcing table, taking the seat Jerry pulled out for her.

"Not quite what we're used to seeing you in," Mike commented. Erin grinned, accepting a headset.

"I'd take jeans and a t-shirt any day, but Beth insisted," she replied. "Thanks for having me down here."

"Thanks for joining us," Jerry answered, shaking her hand. "You look quite nice, by the way. Glad to have the night off?"

"I'll be gladder still once Orton's been counted out," Erin replied, smiling. Her smile stiffened as Randy Orton made his way to the ring. Just as he climbed in, however, Mr. McMahon appeared at the top of the ramp.

"This match will proceed with a slight modification," he announced. "This match will now be a Hell in a Cell match." John and Randy stared up as the steel cage lowered slowly, ominously. "Inside of the cage are two pairs of handcuffs, two kendo sticks, and two sledgehammers. They're yours to use as you like."

"Son of a bitch," Erin whispered. Jerry and Mike glanced over at her quickly, surprised. "Sorry, sorry."

"I don't think we've ever heard you swear before, that's all," Jerry explained. "Well, I guess we know what you think of the change in the match." Erin chuckled dryly.

"I'm absolutely horrible at hiding what I think," she agreed. "What do you guys think, though? You've been in this business so much longer than I have."

"Are you calling us old?" Jerry demanded, mock-angry.

"Experienced," Erin corrected him, grinning. "So what do you think?"

"As much as I hate to say it, this kind of environment really favors Randy Orton," Mike admitted. "John Cena is certainly among the best fighters we've ever seen, but Randy Orton is one of the dirtiest. He could do some serious damage here."

"I know what you mean about the whole dirty fighter thing," Erin muttered.

The bell rang, and all three announcers turned back to the ring. The steel cage locked into place, and Erin bit her lip nervously. John wasted no time, charging at Randy without hesitation and bodyslamming him to the mats. When Randy rose, John hit him with a flying shoulder block before dragging him into a fireman's carry, which Randy wriggled out of. John landed several good punches to Randy's jaw before Randy backed away, and John returned a fighter's crouch, bouncing on the balls of his feet before charging once more.

This time, as John charged, Randy dropped, sending John over his hip and head-first into the steel cage. John slumped to the ground, trying to clear his head, and Randy quickly grabbed one of the pairs of handcuffs, binding both of John's wrists to the steel cage before picking up one of the kendo sticks.

Randy stared directly at Erin as he raised the kendo stick and brought it down. The crack echoed over the stadium as John flinched, gritting his teeth as he strove not to cry out. Randy didn't even look at his opponent, his eyes locked on Erin's as he brought down the kendo stick again and again. Erin gripped the chair with the effort it took her not to rise. Angry, Randy threw down the kendo stick and took up the sledgehammer instead. He met Erin's pleading stare once more, raising the sledgehammer high.

"No!" Erin cried, throwing her headset to the ground and sprinting to the side of the cage. "The score between you was settled! I'm the one you have a score to settle with yet, Randy. I'm the one you want to use the sledgehammer on. Please, don't!" Randy lowered the sledgehammer slowly, indicating to the referees that they should open the door. Erin dashed in as soon as they did so, heedless of the closing and locking of the door behind her. She rushed across the ring, meaning to place herself between John and Randy. Before she was even halfway across the ring, Randy had stepped forward. Catching her by the throat, he lifted her high into the air, above his head. Erin clawed futilely at his hand, finding no purchase. With a ferocious roar, he threw her to the ground. Erin groaned, her head spinning. Before she could get up, Randy had taken the second pair of handcuffs and cuffed her to the corner pole, just out of reach of John Cena were his hands free. Taking up the Kendo stick once more, he brought it down on Erin's ribcage again and again until the bodice of her dress was stained red with blood. His boots struck her ribs and legs, and Erin screamed as her ankle twisted harshly. He drove a vicious blow into Erin's head, knocking her almost unconscious. Groggy, she slumped against the pole, barely awake. Randy grabbed her legs, laying her out in full view of John Cena.

"You're right, Erin," Randy said, his voice eerily calm. "I do still have a score to settle with you. There's something I never got from you that I should have long ago." He lowered himself onto his knees and fists, crouching over her. As the crowd and John Cena looked on, horrified, Randy bent until he was just over her barely-conscious form, kissing her venomously. John roared, murderous, as Erin let out a quiet moan, unable to move. Randy slipped his hand beneath the hem of her skirt, sliding it higher and higher as Erin closed her eyes tightly, flinching underneath him. Randy laughed, the sound a low rumble in his throat as he held her down. Behind him, unseen, Hunter scaled the steel cage as fast as he could, the handcuff key clenched in his teeth. He quickly unlocked John's handcuffs, and John dropped to his feet, diving at Randy without a moment's hesitation and knocking him off Erin's barely-conscious form. Hunter decked the referee outside the door when he refused to open it, unlocking the door himself. Ignoring John, who had hauled Randy over his head and was ready to throw him into a serious Attitude Adjustment, he unlocked Erin's handcuffs, helping her to sit up against the corner pole. John threw Randy to the ground, pinning him quickly and gaining the count-out, but he clearly had revenge on his mind. He looked at Erin, torn between a desire to punish Randy and a need to make sure Erin was alright. Hunter picked up the sledgehammer, hefting it easily.

"Go take care of her," he told John, joining him over Randy's prone form. "Besides, I owe him some pain of my own."

"Why?" John asked, looking at his one-time enemy suspiciously. "Why unlock my handcuffs? Why take down Randy?"

"Because I couldn't protect the woman I love from him," Hunter replied quietly. "I couldn't let him do that to you or to her. You've beaten him, and he knows it. Go care for her."

"Thank you," John replied, equally quiet. He left Hunter standing over Randy, leaving them behind as he lifted Erin carefully, cradling her against his chest as he attempted to staunch the flow of blood coming from the long cut that ran the length of her side, the result of the repeated Kendo stick blows.

"I knew you'd do it," Erin managed as he set her down on the locker room couch. The lightweight cotton fabric of her dress stuck to the bloody cut, and she bit back a whimper as John pulled it over her head. A long cut bled sluggishly, flanked by a rapidly purpling bruise that ran from her hip to the top of her ribcage, just as the cut did. John shook his head, placing a layer of bandages over it before wrapping her entire torso in tape to keep it in place. On his own torso, welts were visible, but none of Randy's blows had broken the skin. "Are you alright?" John chuckled dryly.

"You're bleeding through your dress, you've got a bruise that covers half your torso, and I'm pretty sure your ankle's sprained, and you want to know if I'm alright?" he asked, incredulous. "I'm fine, I promise. Do you want me to see if one of the Divas has a spare set of clothes?"

"I've got stuff in my locker," Erin said, shaking her head stubbornly.

"And you need a brace on that thing," John said, indicating her ankle. Erin twisted, biting back a scream of pain as her bruises reminded her of their presence. "You've got one in your locker, I take it. I'll grab it. Why the hell do you have an ankle brace in your locker?"

"I've also got a knee braces, elbow braces, wrist braces, and splints," Erin informed him, catching her breath. "Always prepared, right?"

"You want your black Marines t-shirt or the grey one?" John asked, shaking his head.

"Neither," Erin replied, groaning as she sat up. "I've got a sports bra in there. I'll wear that. I want everyone to see this when I go out."

"When you go out where?" Beth asked, astonished, joining them. "Sorry I took so long. Here's your ice."

"Don't bother—I'm calling Randy out," Erin replied grimly, even as the pain made her gasp. "If he wants to settle this score with me, we're going to settle it—at SummerSlam. I'm challenging him to an I Quit match, because it's the one thing I can guarantee I won't say."

"You're crazy," Beth remarked flatly, and John's expression seemed to indicate agreement.

"I'm pissed," Erin corrected her, her voice shaking with anger. "He wants to settle the score, fine. We're settling it once and for all."

"Fine, but you're not walking down there," John informed her. "You'll pass out from pain before getting three steps down the ramp."

"Then you better plan on carrying me," Erin retorted.

"I can live with that," John agreed. Beth opened her locker, handing over the sports bra. John politely averted his eyes as Erin stripped off her bloodstained bra and shrugged into the clean one.

"You've seen more than that before, you know," she pointed out.

"Yes, but you're all bloody right now," John replied patiently. Erin shrugged, wincing as she wriggled into her jeans, but she nodded at John with a grim smile when she was done.

"Let's go," she said. John lifted her carefully, carrying her as though she weighed no more than a feather. They didn't even wait for her music to play, but marched straight to the ring. He placed her on the mat beneath the rope before jumping in himself. Erin used the ropes to lever herself to her feet, staying off her injured ankle. John wrapped a supportive arm around her waist, keeping her upright. "Most of you saw what just happened," Erin said, indicating the stained bandage on her side. She looked as though she would fall down but for John's arm about her waist, but her voice was as clear as her anger. "Randy Orton handcuffed me to a corner pole, beat me with a kendo stick, punched me until I was almost unconscious, and then attempted to take from me the one thing I refused to give him at Camp Pendleton. Now, Randy and I have a score to settle, and I thought we'd mostly dealt with it, but apparently not." She took a deep breath, eyes on the ramp. "So Randy Orton, I challenge you to a no-disqualifications, no-count out, I Quit match at SummerSlam on September 19th to settle this once and for all. You want to bring a weapon? Do it. This match, anything goes. And if you're not a coward—if you're not too scared to fight a girl—you'll come out here and accept the challenge." She watched the ramp unflinchingly, and Randy Orton finally emerged, looking worse for the wear himself.

"This scene seems familiar," he remarked, making his way down the ramp. "That's right—you challenged CM Punk to a match after he beat you up. You talk real pretty, get the crowd all whipped up into a frenzy, and everybody's behind you when you enter the ring. You need to stop talking and start doing."

"Start doing?" Erin replied delicately. "You mean like beating CM Punk in a Bring-Your-Own-Weapons match? Or maybe, you mean like beating him in under a minute the first time I faced him? Or maybe you mean like beating you in my first match in the WWE—"

"Enough!" Randy roared. He paused for a moment, regaining his composure. "I'm going to give you one chance to walk away from this," he told her, ducking into the ring. "One chance right now to save yourself. Because if you don't, if we do this match, you won't be able to hide behind Cena and the Game like you did today. There'll be no second chances, no backups, no partners—just you versus me."

"Randy," Erin said grimly, "I wouldn't have it any other way. Are you in, or are you a coward?"

"Last chance," Randy growled in reply.

"I'm not leaving," Erin snapped, biting the words off.

"One more condition, then," Randy replied, his voice a venomous hiss. "You lose, you quit—for good."

"You're on," Erin replied. She dropped her microphone and turned her back on him, allowing John to hold the ropes open for her to slip through. She winced, holding her side, allowing John to lift her down.

"You're staying in my room tonight," he informed her as they headed backstage, his tone indicating that he would brook no argument. "I'm not risking you falling out of bed, or slipping in the shower, or anything like that."

"And just how do you expect to keep me from slipping in the shower?" Erin asked, raising her eyebrows.

"My room came with a bath," John replied quickly, putting her at ease.

"Oh," Erin replied, embarrassed. "Well, that's okay then."

"I thought it might be," John laughed, cradling her easily against his chest as he carried her out of the stadium. "Good thing I brought the Dodge Viper today. Plenty of space for you."

"I love pickups," Erin confessed. "My first car was a '96 Chevy Silverado. Fire-engine red. It stood out a little bit, in a town where everybody drove Buicks and Cadillacs and Hondas."

"That's hot," John informed her. "Girls with pickup trucks?"

"Beth had a Jeep," Erin added, laughing. "We took turns driving to school."

"I think I've got Advil in the glove box," John realized, helping her into the passenger seat. Erin opened the glove box, dry-swallowing six Advil as she buckled in. "And I'll call Beth and ask her to bring your bag back to the hotel."

"Have I mentioned that you're the best boyfriend ever?" Erin said gratefully, leaning over to kiss his cheek. John smiled, catching her chin as she began to pull away and returning her lips to his and kissing her thoroughly before letting her settle back into her seat.

"I know," he said simply, pulling out of the parking lot. "Want to watch a movie tonight?"

"Okay, but it's your turn to pick," Erin replied, bracing herself as they went over the speedbumps.

"Inglourious Basterds?" John suggested, and Erin grinned.

"Again: best boyfriend ever," she repeated, tuning the radio to 93.3 WMMR. "Is this okay?"

"You picked it. It's fantastic," he assured her. "And who doesn't like The Who?" He rolled down the windows, blasting 'My Generation' as they returned to the hotel. Before Erin could even open her own door, John had opened it for her and lifted her out, carrying her to the elevator and setting her down only when they reached his room.

"I'll start running the water," Erin announced, making her way to the bathroom slowly.

"Beth just texted me—she's bringing you a t-shirt and sweatpants, and the trainers sent some ace bandages home for you," John called. Erin peered around the doorframe.

"Thank goodness," she replied, smiling.

As she watched, John pulled the mattress from the bed, tossing it onto the floor.

"I told you I'm not letting you fall off the bed," he said in response to her curious look. "I'll grab the blankets. The tub should be full by now." Erin stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before closing the door. John heard a sigh of contented relief, and laughed. There was a knock at the door, and he rose hastily, seeing Beth through the peephole.

"Hey, Beth," he smiled, opening the door. "You've got her stuff?"

"All right here," Beth replied, handing her bag over. "Keep her safe, alright?"

"I will," John promised quietly. "You're a good friend, Beth." Beth smiled, closing the door behind her as John set Erin's bag down next to the bed. "Erin, I'm going to run out and grab some Chinese—you want anything in particular?"

"Shrimp fried rice or chicken fried rice, either is fine" was the immediate response, and John chuckled, grabbing his wallet before locking the door behind him.

In the tub, Erin was thoroughly relaxed, the steam and bubbles melting away her soreness as she soaked. The water was just hot enough, and Erin spent far more time soaking than she did actually washing off. By the time she was done, the water was lukewarm, and the skin of her fingers and palms was wrinkled. The hotel towels were soft and fluffy, and she slipped back into her bra and underwear almost regretfully before wrapping bandages around her ribcage with definite regret. A second Ace bandage went around her ankle, bracing it. She reached for her sweatpants, pausing. A slow smile spread across her face, and she grabbed one of John's "Chain Gang Soldier" t-shirts instead, the hem falling to midthigh as she finished making the bed and setting up the movie. John's expression upon seeing her was somewhere between surprise, amusement, and appreciation, and he kissed her soundly before even handing over the food.

"I've mentioned how sexy you look in my shirts, right?" he asked, turning the TV on as the movie began to play.

"Yup," Erin said happily. John handed her a container of shrimp fried rice before taking sweet and sour chicken for himself, and Erin leaned back against him as they watched.

"I'm amazed you're not complaining more about the pain," John remarked. "I mean, I know you're tougher than nails, but still." Erin managed a small half-smile.

"Every time it starts hurting too badly, I just think about my squad," she explained. "Not one of us left Iraq unmarked. I told you about Ronnie and Mike and Chris, but we all brought back scars. Connor—he's a cop now, but it took nearly a year of rehab before he could join up. The IED that took Chris' arm hit our convoy as we were heading to the airstrip, and a lot of guys were injured. Connor was one of them—nearly lost his arm. They had to reattach it. Ryan lost an eye in a firefight. Colby now has a prosthetic leg from the knee down. Luke had half of his large intestine, spleen, appendix, and gallbladder removed because shrapnel shredded them too badly—he was the first who had to be sent stateside before the tour was up. He wasn't the only one, though. Logan was sent back a week later when he lost his left leg from midthigh-down. Nate's a paraplegic and will never leave his wheelchair. Rob has a piece of shrapnel lodged in his skull that can't be removed without killing him, but it means that his short-term memory is barely existent and he can't focus for more than five minutes at a time. Mark lost an arm at the shoulder—they sent him stateside with three months left in our tour. Dave was a prisoner of war before I was, and he still won't talk about the torture he went through."

John rubbed her back soothingly, and Erin looked up at him.

"I guess what I'm getting at is that if they could go through all of that, I can handle a few bruises. And sprains. And welts. And bumps," she finished.

"Like I said—tougher than nails," John replied cheerfully, pulling her close. His expression turned more serious as he tilted her chin up until she met his eyes. "You're a hero, beautiful. And so is every man on your squad. Thank you for trusting me with this—with everything. I'm always here to listen."

"I know," Erin said simply, snuggling up against him. She relaxed slowly as the movie played on.

"I love the ethical implications of this movie, but I think I love the explosions every bit as much," John remarked.

"And that is entirely okay," Erin laughed, agreeing. "Explosions are awesome."

"I'm glad to have a girlfriend who understands that," John said, leaning down to kiss her. Erin smiled up at him, content in his arms as the movie played on.

"You didn't say the goddamn rendezvous was in a fuckin' basement," she quoted.

"I didn't know," John quoted back at her.

"You said it was in a tavern," Erin quoted, laughing.

"It is a tavern," John recited.

"Yeah, in a basement," Erin tossed back. "You know, fightin' in a basement offers a lot of difficulties. Number one bein'—"

"You're fightin' in a basement!" John chorused with her, and Erin cracked up, falling back against his chest.

"You're fantastic, you know that?" Erin murmured, turning her face up for a kiss. John lowered his mouth to hers willingly, and Erin smiled up at him.

"I don't know about you, but I'm about to fall asleep," John remarked.

"I'm with you on that one, actually," Erin assured him. She rolled over with a groan, turning the TV off as John hit the lights. "Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, beautiful," John replied quietly, brushing a kiss over her forehead before pulling her close.

* * *

A/N: First of all, I'm so sorry this is late-I was in a turkey-induced daze and forgot to post on Saturday. Forgive me. Second, in case anybody doesn't remember/didn't watch back then, the Triple H/Randy storyline was EPIC and I'm referring to the time when Randy kissed Steph in the ring. Third, I promised this chapter would be awesome. So I hope you think it was.

Just to mix things up, if you review, post your favorite Inglourious Basterds quote along with it. I absolutely love that movie. And 93.3 WMMR is my local rock station (I love Preston and Steve in the mornings). I had fun writing this chapter, honestly. I needed to get the whole Randy-Erin angle going again, so I think this may have done it! Read and review, please!


	22. Get to Know the Next Generation

Erin woke up sore all over, stifling groans of pain as she rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself upright. Her ribs ached, but under the bandages, her welts had closed over with new skin. Her ankle was still in the brace, but no longer felt like it was being stabbed every time she took a step. In fact, except for a slight twinge, her ankle felt fine. John's sweatshirt hung down to her knees, and her cargo pants were exceptionally wrinkled, but she brushed them off quietly, pulling jeans and a t-shirt out of her bag and changing in the bathroom. Noticing that John was still soundly asleep, she grabbed the spare room key before she left the room silently, pulling out her wallet and making her way slowly downstairs. She cracked her neck experimentally, heading for the coffee shop down the road and picking up one black coffee, a java chip frappachino, a breakfast sandwich, two biscuits, and a small fruit salad, balancing them all and returning to John's room just as he woke up.

"You didn't have to do that," he said sleepily, yawning as he stretched. "That was really sweet of you."

"You let me stay in your room overnight, gave me a mattress on the floor so I wouldn't fall, and let me use your tub. I owe you just a little bit," Erin retorted, smiling cheerfully. "Come on. I'm not eating breakfast by myself." John grinned, rolling out of bed.

"Where are we eating?" he asked.

"Balcony?" Erin suggested, and John shrugged agreeably. "I got you a black coffee, but there's sugar and creamers in the bag if you'd prefer."

"No, I take it black," John replied, taking the fruit salad and the bag of breakfast foods. "I take it the frappachino is yours?"

"It's got chocolate," Erin said defensively, taking a seat on a lounge chair. John laughed, taking a seat next to her and handing over a biscuit and the fruit salad.

"How are you feeling this morning?" John asked. Erin shrugged.

"About as sore and stiff as I expected, but I'm not bleeding, nothing feels broken, and my ankle isn't swollen, which I figure is a good sign," she replied. "I'll probably go to the trainers to get it checked out this evening anyway."

"That's probably smart," John agreed. "I've actually got to go home tonight, though—it's my brother Dan's birthday. Do you think one of the NXT guys could give you a ride?"

"I could give Christian a call," Erin assured him. "If not, I can always take a taxi."

"Sounds like a plan," John replied, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. "Got any plans for the afternoon?"

"Well, I decided that my morning run would be a bad plan, so I think I might go to the gym and sit in on one of the Pilates classes. I don't think that would be too much," Erin mused. "I'll just go crazy if I sit here and don't do anything."

"Why don't I drop you off?" John suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Erin agreed. "I'll just run back and get changed—I'll meet you in the parking garage." She tossed her empty frappachino cup into the trash, grabbing her bag inside and trotting down the hall to her room. Beth was still sleeping when she entered, so she made sure to stay quiet as she changed into cotton spandex capris and a bright yellow t-shirt bearing "Brasil" and the Brazilian soccer logo. John was waiting for her next to his car when she arrived in the garage, and she set her bag at the foot of the seat before climbing in carefully, wary of jarring her ribs.

"I just talked to Morrison—he and Truth are at the gym right now, and they said they can give you a lift home," John informed her, pulling out of the parking lot. Erin smiled softly.

"You're sweet," she remarked, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"I just want to make sure my girl is safe," John replied, though he was smiling as well. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"There's plenty of other superstars here," Erin reminded him. "And I have a license to carry this." She opened her bag, showing him the 9mm she kept in there. John laughed, shaking his head.

"Somehow, I'd forgotten about that," he commented. "My fears are assuaged. Go forth and do Pilates!" Erin laughed, leaning through the window to kiss him before he left.

"Hey, G.I. Jane!" Nikki called.

"Hey, Nikki," Erin laughed. "What's up?"

"Brie and I were meeting up with Natalya for a Pilates class," Nikki replied. "How about you? You here to lift?"

"Not after last night's beating," Erin replied promptly. "I was actually planning to go to that Pilates class."

"Oh, good," Nikki replied cheerfully. "Hey, Brie! Erin's coming with us!"

"I don't know that I can be seen with her. She's wearing a Brazil shirt," Brie called back.

"Please. You cheer for a team famous for diving," Erin retorted. "You're just jealous that my team wins on actual talent." Brie punched her shoulder jokingly, and Erin flinched, grabbing her ribs.

"I'm sorry!" Brie gasped quickly. "I'm so, so—"

"It's fine," Erin managed, her breathing slowing as the pain dulled. "So what does the class usually entail?"

"It's a mat-based class, so we start with stretches and then go through upper body, then core, then lower body," Brie explained. "Today's core, mostly, with the side kick series at the end."

"You can leave your bag with ours," Natalya offered, joining them. "Ready?"

"Of course," Erin replied, and Nikki and Brie led her in. She texted Christian quickly, smiling as he agreed to give her a ride.

Erin had expected a somewhat relaxed class, full of stretches and slow, rhythmic movement. Instead, only the first half hour was anything like what she had anticipated. The next two hours were filled with core exercises she'd never heard of—the hundred, the roll up, the crab, the open leg rocker—and a few she did—crunches, shoulder bridges, and v-sits. The final half hour consisted of a side kick series, and she was thoroughly exhausted and sweaty by the time they were done.

"Wow," she managed, shaking her head. She tugged her t-shirt over her head, fanning herself with it. The bandages around her ribs were soaked, and she peeled them off slowly. There was a wolf-whistle from down the hall, and she looked up, laughing as John Morrison and R-Truth joined them.

"You try Pilates sometimes and see if you don't end up sweaty enough to take of your shirt," she retorted.

"Unlike you, I don't need an excuse to take of my shirt," John replied, pulling off his own t-shirt. "I just like showing off my abs."

"We've noticed," Brie remarked dryly. "Erin, are you coming home with us?"

"Actually, I think I'm getting a ride home from John," Erin replied. "I'll see you guys later, though, I'm sure."

"Thanks for coming with us!" Nikki called. Erin waved, following John out to his car—a red Dodge Charger.

"You can have shotgun," R-Truth offered.

"Thanks," Erin replied, climbing in carefully.

"How do they feel?" John asked, indicating her ribs.

"Like a horse kicked them," Erin replied promptly. "But they feel a lot better than yesterday, at least. Are either of you going to NXT tonight?"

"I have to—you remember my rookie, David Otunga," R-Truth commented, rolling his eyes.

"Sadly, yes," Erin replied. "I'll see you over there. I have to get checked out by the trainers."

"Need a lift?" R-Truth offered.

"Christian said he'd give me a ride, but thanks," Erin replied, touched.

"Anytime," he answered as they pulled into the parking lot. "We'll walk you up."

"Does everyone on Raw think me incapable of defending myself?" Erin asked crossly.

"Of course not!" John informed her, surprised. "It's everyone on Raw _and_ Smackdown that wants to take care of you." Erin snickered, allowing John and Truth to flank her as they made their way back to her room.

"I'll see you guys later," she called, locking the door behind her as she ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower. Room service brought up lunch, even though it was late afternoon, and she ate while catching up on the news. There was a knock at the door, and she let Christian in. "Hey, Chris. I'm almost ready."

"Take your time," Christian replied, crutching in. "I can't exactly hurry right now, anyway."

"What happened?" Erin gasped.

"Despite having off last night, I managed to trip down the stairs and break my ankle," Christian informed her. Erin shook her head, ducking into the bathroom to change. She put on sweatpants and a black U.S. Marines t-shirt, grabbing a pair of jeans on the off chance that they went out to dinner afterward.

"Ready to go?" Christian called.

"Yup," Erin replied, grabbing her bag. She followed him out to the parking lot, grinning as she saw his car. "Did you intentionally make that look like the Batmobile?" she asked.

"To the Batcave, Robin!" Christian said by way of reply, and Erin laughed, hopping into the passenger seat. "You know, it's a really good thing I don't drive stick-shift. Then I'd have to relinquish the Batmobile to you."

"I think I see why Tiffany dates you," Erin remarked mock-solemnly.

"What, for my car?" Christian asked, confused.

"No, for your Batman impressions. Clearly," Erin replied, laughing.

"Well, they are pretty good," Christian agreed. "So have you met my rookie yet? Heath?"

"I haven't had the chance to just yet, but I've been following NXT, and I could definitely see him going places," Erin replied.

"Who's your top three right now?" Christian asked, curious.

"I'd say the best ones to me, right now, are Heath, Justin Gabriel, and Wade Barrett," Erin admitted. "I completely disagree with Wade about the whole strength versus speed debate, but he's definitely a good fighter. Justin and Heath both have flash, but they've also got the definite skills to back the flashiness up."

"I think I'd have to agree with you on those three," Christian commented. "They're definitely the frontrunners for me as well. And on a completely different topic, why are you coming tonight?"

"I need to see the trainers about my ribs. And my hip. And my ankle," Erin replied, grinning sheepishly. "How's your ankle doing, by the way?"

"The cast should be off in a few weeks, so we'll go from there," Christian shrugged. "In the mean time, Matt's been helping me with training a bit, but I was actually wondering if you wouldn't mind teaching him some aerial stuff. He needs to expand his repertoire a little."

"I'd be glad to help," Erin replied, pleasantly surprised. "I'm pretty sure I won't be able to do anything myself this week, but I can talk him through some moves. And come next week, I'll be ready to demonstrate again."

"That would be fantastic," Christian said gratefully, parking and grabbing his crutches from the back seat. Erin grabbed his bag before he could, brooking no protest.

"Crutches are bad enough without having to carry a giant bag along with them," she informed him firmly. "Where do you want me to leave it?"

"If you could drop it off in the training room, that would be awesome," Christian replied, holding the door open with one crutch.

"I'm headed there anyway," Erin assured him.

"Oh, good," Christian said, crutching down the hall. "Hey, Abe."

"Hey, Christian," Abe—Christian's trainer—called. "What, you're bringing new injuries to me now? You must be bad luck or something."

"Nonsense," Christian retorted. "Abe, meet Erin. Erin, you've been lucky enough to not meet Abe just yet. Sorry."

"Erin—that's right. We've assigned Katherine to work with you," Abe informed her, beckoning to another trainer. "Katherine, this is Erin Harris, your new client. Erin, meet Katherine Overland, who will kill you if you call her anything but Kat. Or at least, that's what she threatens me with."

"That's because you're an obnoxious jerk at times," Katherine explained patiently. "Hi, Erin. Come on over, and we'll take a look at you. Ribs, hip, and ankle, right? I'll check your back, too, just in case, and your knees."

"Thanks," Erin said gratefully, taking a seat on the table as Katherine performed several tests on her knees.

"Knees feel fine, which is good news," Katherine informed her. "Can you lie down on your stomach, or is that too painful?"

"It's really painful," Erin replied apologetically.

"No big," Katherine assured her. "Why don't you stand up, and I'll check your back that way?" Erin rose, allowing Katherine to check her spine and the muscles surrounding it. "A few knots, but that's nothing a good massage won't fix. On to your ribs, then."

Katherine palpated her rib cage, noting when she winced, before moving down to her hip, thighs, and ankle.

"You've got some exceptionally bruised ribs, and those welts look incredibly uncomfortable—they'll be gone by Friday, though," she informed Erin. "You dislocated your hip again, so I can pop that back in. I'm not all that fond of the way your ankle's moving, but it's a high sprain, so I can keep it wrapped and you can be back by next Monday. You don't need crutches, but no running or lifting until this weekend. And I'll wrap your ribs again, as per Dr. Porcelan's instructions. All the other bruises are just superficial. Can you raise your arms for me?"

Erin lifted her arms, allowing Katherine to wrap her ribs with ace bandages before popping her hip back into place and adding kinesiology tape to support it. Her ankle brace was traded for a lighter neoprene one, and she smiled.

"Anything else?" Katherine asked.

"It's not like a have a match," Erin laughed. "I'll just do my best to stay wrapped and taped as much as possible."

"Actually, I think Heath wanted to ask you about a match for next week," Christian called, coming over. "I can take you down to the greenroom, if you'd like.  
"Sure," Erin agreed, hopping down from the table and heading out of the training room. Upon reaching the greenroom, she saw several NXT rookies, one of whom immediately vacated his seat and came over, pushing his red hair back out of his face.

"I'm a huge fan, Miss Harris," Heath said, shaking her hand. Erin smiled at the younger man, and he blushed.

"Call me Erin," she laughed. "John said you wanted to tell me about a match?"

"Right—right," Heath said, shaking his head to clear it. "So I had hoped to have a match next week, since I get to choose the matches after winning the songwriting competition, and Christian recommended that I do a four-man tag-team match, but he got injured last week. Would you—would you team with me? I know it's a lot to ask, and you'll probably still be sore from Raw, but—"

"Just tell me who to take down," Erin replied, smiling. "I'd be glad to team with you. I've seen you wrestle before, and I can see you becoming a pro. You'll do great." Heath's blush deepened, and Erin couldn't help but laugh. "So who are we facing?"

"David Otunga, Michael Tarver, Skip Sheffield, and William Regal," Heath replied, and Erin smiled grimly. "And Justin Gabriel and Wade Barrett are going to round out our roster—I figured three rookies and one pro on each side would be pretty much fair."

"Erin, you stealing my rookie?" Christian called, crutching over to join them. Erin laughed, shaking her head.

"He recruited me, Chris," she replied, as Christian slung his arm over Heath's shoulders. "Not the other way around. Besides, I'm not usurping your throne until next week."

"Did you really just use the word 'usurping'?" Christian asked, laughing.

"You bet," Erin replied promptly. "Come on, it's a fun word. And nobody every uses it anymore."

"That's true," Christian agreed, shrugging. "How're the ribs? And the ankle, and the hip, I guess."

"Ribs are sore and bruised, hip is now un-dislocated, and the ankle is sprained but not too badly," Erin ticked off. "I'll be ready to go again by Friday. So if we want to practice together a bit before NXT next week, I'll be game."

"How about Saturday?" Christian suggested. "Look, I think Matt and Justin should be over in a minute, too."

"Talking about us behind our backs?" Matt asked. "Hey, Erin. This is my rookie, Justin Gabriel. Justin, Erin Harris."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Harris," Justin said, shaking her hand politely.

"It's just Erin," she insisted. "Nice to meet you as well, Justin. Ready to kick ass?"

"You bet," Justin replied, and Erin couldn't help but smile at his accent. "Here comes Wade."

Wade and Chris Jericho joined them, and Erin and Matt both watched him carefully.

"Jericho," Erin greeted him politely, but reservedly.

"Harris," he replied, nodding cautiously. "Hardy. This is Wade Barrett, my rookie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Harris," Wade said graciously, taking her hand and bowing before kissing it.

"If one more person calls me Miss Harris, I may scream," Erin said jokingly. "I'm glad to meet you as well, Wade. But please, just call me Erin."

"Would you really scream?" Matt asked, curious. Erin smacked his arm.

"If I did, it would be exceptionally loud," she threatened. "But probably not. Pretty sure I'd get yelled at myself if I did that."

"Most likely," Christian shrugged. "And Stephanie's voice gets all shrill and annoying when she yells, so let's avoid that at all costs, please."

"Yes, sir," Erin promised.

"If you don't mind waiting until the show's over, we could all grab dinner and get a head start on the whole familiarity thing," Justin offered.

"I'd love to," Erin agreed. "I've got something a bit nicer in my bag, so I can change into that."

"Would you care to come watch our Rookies competition tonight?" Wade offered, stepping into the conversation for the first time. "I believe most of the pros are, since they're doing the rankings this week."

"Sure," Erin replied, smiling. "I should be presentable in this, right?"

"Absolutely," Heath replied. Erin smiled, allowing both Heath and Justin to link arms with her as they headed out to the ring. Christian followed closely behind them, Matt at his side, and Chris and Wade joined them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, making their way to the ring: Matt Hardy and his rookie, Justin Gabriel, accompanied by Monday Night Raw's Erin Harris," Matt Striker announced. "Joining them, Christian and his rookie, Heath Slater, and Chris Jericho and his rookie, Wade Barrett."

"Good luck!" Erin said cheerfully, following Christian and Matt to the seats near the announcer's table.

"Tonight, our rookies are undergoing one of the most rigorous fitness tests in the world—the Marine Corps Physical Fitness test," Striker announced. "They have already completed the 3 mile run, with the goal of finishing in no more than 26:20. Two rookies were unable to complete this event in time, and David Otunga and Michael Tarver have been disqualified from the challenge. The winner of the challenge was Justin Gabriel, with Heath Slater and Wade Barrett tying for second. The winner of this challenge will receive immunity for next week's elimination, and two more events remain to be completed—the pull-up test and the timed 2 minute crunches test." He indicated the hanging pull-up bar above the ring. "The rookies will begin at my mark, and only pull-ups with no extraneous motion will be counted. The rookie who completes the most pull-ups will win the event. Any rookie completing less than 15 pullups will be disqualified." At his signal, the rookies grasped the bar, hanging above the ring. "Gentlemen, you may begin." The rookies went at it with a will, each man fighting to do better than his neighbors. Daniel Bryan was the first to fall, followed by Skip Sheffield and Darren Young. Heath fell next, then Wade, and last of all Justin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tallies for this event are as follows: Daniel Bryan, 13 pull-ups; Skip Sheffield, 14 pull-ups; Darren Young, 16 pull-ups; Justin Gabriel, 17 pull-ups; Wade Barrett, 18 pull-ups; Heath Slater, 20 pull-ups," Striker recited. "Unfortunately, Daniel and Skip, you have failed to meet the minimum requirement and are now disqualified. The remaining rookies move on to the timed crunches test. They will have 2 minutes to complete as many crunches as they can." Daniel and Skip left the ring, and the other rookies lay down on the mats. "Gentleman, the timer begins…now." The ring shook at the speed of their movements, and Erin watched eagerly. "And time. Gentlemen, please stand. The final scores are as follows: Darren Young, fourth place; Wade Barrett, third place; Heath Slater, second place; and in first place, our winner—Justin Gabriel!" Christian cheered proudly, and Erin clapped as well. "Justin, you will have full immunity during the next pros poll as a result of your victory tonight. Congratulations." The rookies left the ring slowly, and Striker turned to address the crowd. "Tonight's main event will be a pro versus rookie match featuring Darren Young and CM Punk, but our first match tonight is a tag team match pitting Justin Gabriel and Heath Slater against Daniel Bryan and Skip Sheffield. A second tag team match later tonight will feature Wade Barrett and Chris Jericho against Michael Tarver and Carlito, and that will round out our schedule for the evening."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Erin remarked. Matt chuckled, and Erin smiled.

"Introducing first, weighing in at 222 pounds, accompanied by Luke Gallows and Serena, the Straight Edge Superstar—CM Punk!" Matt announced. There were scattered cheers, but Punk received mostly boos from the packed stadium as he made his way down to the ring. "And his challenger, from Hollywood, California, weighing in at 240 pounds, NXT Rookie Darren Young!" The cheers for Darren were significantly louder, and Erin joined in readily.

"You're cheering for Darren?" Christian asked, somewhat surprised.

"No, I'm cheering against Punk," Erin corrected him.

"That makes far more sense," Christian replied, grinning. "You want anything to drink? I was going to ask Heath to grab me some coffee from catering."

"If he's going, I'd love a water bottle," Erin confessed. Christian nodded, texting his rookie quickly.

As they turned their attention back to the ring, Darren charged his mentor, and Punk dragged him into a snap scoop powerslam. The crowd hissed in sympathy, but Darren was back on his feet quickly, driving a punch that connected with his mentor's jaw. When Punk staggered backwards, Darren went on the offensive quickly, executing a perfect belly to belly suplex, following it up with a northern lights suplex. Punk managed to get an elbow free, battering his rookie's head until Darren stumbled away. Punk took the opportunity to climb the ropes, hitting Darren with a diving crossbody and going for the pin. Darren kicked out at two, and Punk rolled away, frustrated. He dragged the younger man upright, Irish whipping him into the ropes. As Darren bounced back, Punk hit him with a jumping hammerlock, twisting it into a short-range lariat that left the rookie grimacing in pain. Darren managed to wriggle out of a fireman's carry as Punk went for the Go to Sleep, spinning his mentor around into a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. Punk arched his back in pain, and Darren wrapped both hands around his head in a full nelson. He lifted his mentor, meaning to twist him into a flapjack, but Punk twisted away, hitting Darren with a double underhook backbreaker. He followed it up with a perfectly executed Go to Sleep, and Darren didn't make it out of the pin this time.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winner—CM Punk!" Matt Striker announced. As before, there were only scattered cheers and mostly boos. Punk took the mic from Matt, glaring him down until he left the ring.

"Previously, my rookie refused to join the Straight Edge Society," Punk growled. "When he challenged me to a pro versus rookie match, I demanded one stipulation: that if he lost, he would join the Straight Edge Society." Luke slid a chair into the ring, and Serena climbed into the ring, the barber's kit in hand. Darren was groggy and nearly unconscious as they dragged him into the chair, and Punk held up the razor triumphantly. This time, Rey Mysterio wasn't on hand to save him, and none of the superstars seated ringside said anything in protest.

"If Darren promised, then he can't go back on that," Christian remarked. Erin nodded in resigned agreement, watching as Darren raised his right hand high, pledging acceptance of Punk as his savior. The rookie looked young and vulnerable without his hair, following his mentor up the stadium and out of the ring.

"What a waste," Matt Hardy said, shaking his head. "Oh, good. We cut to commercial."

"Here's your water," Heath called, joining them as he offered a water bottle to Erin. "And here's your coffee."

"I have the best rookie ever," Christian concluded. Heath laughed, heading backstage once more.

The NXT music echoed across the stadium as Justin and Heath came down the ring, hi-fiving every hand within reach as they made their way down the ramp.

"Presenting first, at a combined weight of 415 pounds, the team of Justin Gabriel and Heath Slater," Matt Striker announced. "And it looks like they're being accompanied to the ring by Friday Night Smackdown's Savannah and the lovely Diva Brie Bella." Brie came down the ring on Justin's arm, while Savannah accompanied Heath. Matt pulled out an extra chair, wincing awkwardly when he realized that there was only one more chair.

"I'll scooch over, Brie," Erin called, patting the seat next to her. "There's enough room for both of us." Brie grinned.

"Not sure I can sit next to a Brazil fan…" she teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm sacrificing a lot to sit next to an Italia fan, so sit your butt down," Erin retorted. Brie laughed, taking the half a seat offered to her.

"And the challengers, at a combined weight of 465 pounds—Daniel Bryan and Skip Sheffield!" Matt went on. Daniel and Skip received mixed cheers as they entered the ring. When the bell rang, it was Daniel and Justin who faced off first, circling each other cautiously. Daniel lunged in first, and Justin hit him with a spin kick to the jaw. When Daniel staggered, Justin immediately went to the ropes, hitting him with a springboard crossbody and going for the pin. Daniel kicked out at two, and Justin pulled him upright before connecting a discus elbow smash with his jaw. Daniel dropped, but managed to roll over as Justin dropped on him for the pin, ducking behind Justin and pulling him into a surfboard. Justin grimaced in pain as his shoulders were wrenched backwards, managing with immense effort to pull his arms forward and tag Heath in. Heath wasted no time, swinging over the ropes to connect a missile dropkick with Daniel's chest. Daniel flew across the ring, but recovered quickly, hitting Heath with a running big boot as Heath charged him. He followed it up by dragging Heath into a tiger suplex that sent him to the mats, then climbed to the top rope for a diving headbutt. Heath lay on the mats, groggy, as Daniel tagged his partner in. Skip went immediately for the pin, but Heath kicked out just in time. Skip lifted him into an overhead belly to belly suplex, then went for a Thesz press, but Heath wriggled out, Irish whipping Skip into the ropes before hitting him with a diving elbow drop. Skip stumbled towards him, and Heath hit him with a spinning spinebuster that left him face-up on the mats. Heath grinned at his partner as he staggered to the corner, tagging Justin in. Justin climbed to the top ropes as soon as he was tagged, pushing off for a 450 splash that he followed immediately with a pin.

"And here are your winners—Justin Gabriel and Heath Slater!" Brie and Savannah rose, cheering, and climbed into the ring, holding up the rookies' hands. Erin wolf-whistled, and Brie laughed as she and Savannah followed Justin and Heath out.

"Our final match of the night will feature Chris Jericho and Wade Barrett against the team of Carlito and Michael Tarver," Matt Striker announced. "Entering the ring first, at a combined weight of 486 pounds—Chris Jericho and Wade Barrett!" The cheers for Wade and Chris weren't all that loud, but Erin clapped respectfully. "And the challengers, at a combined weight of 476 pounds, Carlito and Michael Tarver!" The cheers for Carlito and Michael were sparse and scattered, and the boos were far louder.

The match started rookie against rookie, with Wade matching up against Michael. Wade struck first, with a European uppercut that Michael countered with several jabs to the temple. Wade shook his head stubbornly, staggering backwards. Michael charged him, and Wade hit him with a big boot to the jaw. Michael's eyes rolled back, and Wade seized the opportunity to powerbomb him. At Jericho's command, he tagged his mentor in, and Jericho swung over the ropes to hit Michael with a missile dropkick. When Michael staggered away, Jericho Irish whipped him into the ropes hitting him with a one-handed bulldog. Michael dropped, and Jericho dragged him into a schoolboy that Michael barely got out of in time. He lay against the mats, still exhausted, and Jericho climbed the ropes quickly, checking Michael's position as he went for a lionsault. Michael rolled out of the way at the last second, and Jericho hit the mats hard as Michael tagged Carlito in. As Jericho struggled back to his feet, Carlito hit him with a running knee lift. Jericho fell forwards onto the ropes, and Carlito dragged him back up for a flowing DDT. Jericho hit the mats hard, but Carlito dragged him to his feet one last time, going for a whiplash. Jericho ducked underneath, rolling to the corner and tagging his rookie in. Wade strode in, hitting Carlito with a big boot to the jaw before hitting him with a spinebuster leveled him for the pin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners—Wade Barrett and Chris Jericho!" Matt Striker announced. Jericho clapped Wade's shoulder proudly, whispering something. Wade nodded, making his way out of the ring towards the announcers' table. He pulled the rose from his buttonhole and offered it to Erin with a bow.

"For the lady," he said, and Erin smiled, accepting it. Wade offered a quick smile before leaving, and Erin twirled the rose absently.

"Did Wade Barrett just do something…gentlemanly?" Christian asked, mock-astonished. Erin laughed, tucking the blossom behind one ear.

"It would appear so," she replied. "Ready to grab dinner?"

"After you," he said, managing to rise. Erin handed him his crutches as Matt rose with a groan, and the three made their way out of the stadium together.

* * *

A/N: This was probably the longest chapter so far, and I had a lot of fun writing it. I always make sure to do my research on different superstars' signature moves, and I absolutely love writing wrestling scenes. I threw a little bit of fluff in there for the romantics, and I hope you all enjoyed it!

So I know Nexus is evil, and I absolutely hate them right now because they got Cena fired, but I really did like Heath and Justin and Wade on NXT. So I've kinda ignored that whole storyline, with the exception of the Otunga-Cena blowup. There will be no Nexus in this story...we're pretending they never existed. And I know Daniel Bryan turned out to be kinda awesome eventually (no pun intended with the whole Miz-awesome thing), but he annoyed me on Nexus. And I wasn't a big fan of Tarver, Otunga, or Sheffield, either, and Darren Young was kinda bland to me. So I'll be writing them as either minor characters or heels.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys-it really means so much to me! Keep on reading and reviewing as ever, please!


	23. Make New Friends, but Keep the Old

By the time Friday rolled around, the pain in Erin's ribs had dulled to an occasional ache, she no longer needed the ankle brace, and the welts were all gone. The trainers pronounced her fit to practice, if not to actually spar or wrestle just yet, and Erin was whistling as she headed down to the ring. Christian and Heath were already there, warming up, and Erin waved to them.

"Somebody looks happy," Christian commented. "Let me guess. You're cleared to practice?"

"You got it," Erin replied cheerfully. "Hey, Heath. Good to see you again."

"Thanks so much for agreeing to help me out," Heath replied, holding down the ropes as she climbed into the ring. Erin stripped off her t-shirt, leaving her in a sports bra and sweatpants. "I really like aerial attacks more than grappling, but I don't have much of a background in it."

"That's what I'm here for," Erin reminded him. "Come on. We'll start with some easy stuff off the ropes."

"Good, because I don't think I'm quite up to doing a G.I. Jane," Heath quipped. Erin laughed, and Christian settled himself comfortably in the corner as Erin climbed onto the ropes.

"The first two things I want to work on the basics—how to stand on the ropes and how to do a moonsault," Erin began, as comfortable on the inch-wide ropes as though she were on the ground. "I know the first one sounds stupid, but it takes more balance than you might think. So hop on up to the corner ropes, and I'll lead you around like a show pony."

"Oh, that analogy makes me feel so much better," Heath grumbled, climbing to the top rope. He balanced precariously, and Erin stepped forward, raising one hand for him to hold as he balanced.

"We're going to walk all the way around the ring, and then you're going to practice jumping for a bit," Erin replied. "Then we'll do moonsaults, and then get into some of the more fun stuff."

"Sounds like a plan," Heath replied, balancing a little more easily as they went along. "This isn't so bad, actually." Erin released his hand, and he managed to balance on his own as they reached the corner.

"You're doing very well," she informed him. "Time to start jumping. Just balance there for a minute, alright?" She dragged a thick foam pad from under the ring, setting it down in front of the corner. "They say white men can't jump. Now prove them wrong. Go." Heath laughed, pushing off and landing easily on the mat.

"How was that?" he asked.

"Fantastic," Erin replied promptly. "Now do it again." Erin made him practice jumping and landing ten more times before allowing him to move on. "That was absolutely excellent. On to moonsaults."

"These I'm a little more cautious about," Heath warned.

"And that's why I brought two rather helpful pieces of equipment," Erin replied cheerfully. "Come on. We have to head backstage for a minute." Christian rolled out of the ring with a groan, following them up the ramp and backstage to what had once been an empty space in the basement. Now, however, the space was filled with a large trampoline, and Heath grinned.

"I get to practice on a trampoline?" he asked. Erin nodded, grinning every bit as broadly as the younger rookie.

"Just until you get the technique of it down, though," she cautioned. "We're not going to be back here for too long." She climbed onto the trampoline herself, bouncing up and performing a lazy back layout.

"What's the coolest trick you can do up there?" Christian called. Erin laughed, bouncing, as high as she could several times before performing a G.I. Jane that she landed on her feet, following it with a double front flip.

"You, however, will just be practicing front and back flips," Erin informed Heath. "Hop on up." Heath bounded onto the trampoline eagerly, and Erin indicated for him to begin practicing. She was pleasantly surprised by his form, and she stopped him after a few minutes. "You're ready for the mats. Back out we go."

"But the trampoline is more fun," Heath grumbled, leaving the trampoline only reluctantly. Christian laughed, following his rookie as they headed out to the ring.

"I'm going to spot you for the first few," Erin said, ignoring his previous statement. "So how did you get into wrestling in the first place?"

"Well, I started training in Atlanta with Mr. Hughes, but I don't think that's what you mean," Heath said. He paused, exploding off of the mats as he performed a backwards moonsault. Erin guided him with a hand on his back that he barely needed.

"Very nice," Erin said approvingly. "And no, it wasn't."

"I guess it was something I always watched, growing up," Heath mused. "There were two things I did: play drums and pretend I was in the WWE. So I started training as soon as I could, and ended up here."

"That's pretty awesome," Erin commented, spotting him once more as he performed a forward moonsault that required no spotting at all. "And you've honestly got this down, so we're moving on to the diving knee drop."

"Sounds good to me," Heath agreed.

"It's exactly what it sounds like: a knee drop from the top ropes," Erin went on. "Rey Mysterio does it to standing opponents all the time, but you can also do it to land on a downed opponent and then turn it into a pin. We'll practice the standing one first."

"How? Am I supposed to jump on you or something?" Heath asked. Erin laughed, shaking her head. She ducked under the ring, pulling out a six-foot-tall foam block and setting it up in front of the corner.

"You're going to take this down," Erin replied. "It's about as tall as the average superstar. Let me demonstrate how you're going to hit it." Erin climbed the ropes once more, jumping and tucking her knees so that she struck the block shin-first, dropping her shoulder and rolling off easily as she hit the mats. "I know rolling is the first thing they teach you, as far as taking a fall goes."

"Yup," Heath agreed. Erin set the block back up, and Heath climbed to the top rope.

"So Christian, how about you—how'd you get into the business?" Erin asked, though her eyes were focused only on Heath as he took off, landing knee-first as he knocked the foam block to the mats.

"My idols growing up were Bret and Owen Hart," Christian replied. Erin nodded, setting the block back up for Heath.

"Hit a little lower. You would have missed his shoulders and killed your knees on the mats if that was a match," she informed Heath. Heath nodded, climbing the ropes once more.

"And then Adam—Edge—and I met in high school, and found out we both were huge wrestling fans, so we started training with Ron Hutchinson," Christian went. "How about you? I mean, we all know your history with Randy, but why come to the WWE." Erin waited to answer as she watched Heath take off once more, hitting the block more squarely this time.

"Much better," Erin said approvingly. "Eight more before we move on. Beth invited me out here because she thought I needed a job. I actually had one lined up—I was going to go work as a programmer for Apple, but I honestly don't know why I came out here. I mean, I loved watching wrestling when I was little, and I was beyond excited to be at the WWE Tribute to the Troops performance. I guess that might have been what persuaded me."

"Wait wait wait—the one four years back?" Christian asked. Erin nodded absently, and a slow smile spread across Christian's face. "You were the one on top of the pyramid, holding the flag!"

"How did you—" Erin started.

"I started teasing you about Canada being better, and you jumped off and waved the flag in my face," Christian replied. "And then Cena tackled me, and that was the end of that."

"I can't believe you remember that," Erin laughed, remembering. "I was a huge wrestling fan, and I knew exactly who you were, but I can't believe you remembered me."

"Does this mean I get credit for you coming to the WWE?" Christian asked. Erin shook her head, still laughing.

"Well, whatever your reason, we're glad you're here," Heath called, hitting another diving knee drop perfectly. "How do these look, boss?"

"They're looking great," Christian replied, chuckling. "Erin, what else are you going to have him work on today? I don't mean to rush you, but I know he's got an autograph session in two hours, and he's going to need a shower."

"I know. I've got the same session," Erin replied. "I was going to go through leg drops—diving leg drop bulldogs and moonsault leg drops—and then the springboard crossbody and diving bulldog if we have time."

"I'm pretty sure we'll have enough time for that," Christian agreed. "Who else is going to the signing?"

"I think they just wanted newest WWE recruits," Heath remarked. "I know all the NXT guys are going to be there, and Tiffany and Savannah as well. Want to carpool with us? I think Justin's driving, and he's got an Escalade." Erin whistled.

"In that case, let's hurry up and finish," she laughed. Heath nodded in agreement, and Erin led him through the leg drops, springboard crossbody, and diving bulldog as quickly and safely as she could. By the end of it, even Christian was impressed by his rookie's comfort on the ropes, and Heath was confident in his ability in the air. Erin promised to meet him and the other NXT rookies in the garage in half an hour, hurrying back to the hotel for a shower. She changed into jeans, a black U.S. Marines tee, and her motorcycle jacket, stepping into a pair of grey suede boots before grabbing her wallet and ducking out the door. Heath had already taken shotgun, and Darren sat in the very back. Erin grabbed the seat next to Wade, tucking her phone into her pocket as they pulled out.

"You all look quite dapper," she said cheerfully, and they did—Justin in a fitted black tee and jeans, Heath in a black buttondown and jeans, Darren in a white polo and khakis, and Wade in a pinstriped suit.

"You look a lot more comfortable than us," Wade remarked wryly. "And you still manage to look nice."

"It's a girl thing," Erin informed him, her voice a faux-conspiratorial whisper. "So I know that you guys have done signings before with the developmental groups, but this is my first one. Any words of wisdom?"

"You will get crazies," Heath informed her promptly. "Security can't catch all of them. Most of them are just really, really obsessive, but there's a violent one every now and then. Just keep the table between you and them. But I'm pretty sure you can handle yourself, being a Marine and all." Erin chuckled at that.

"There will be some who just refuse to go away, but security will remove them at some point," Justin added.

"Other than that, just relax and have fun with it. Remember that the fans are there because they think you're awesome, and you'll be fine," Wade finished. "And I think the girls are already here, because I see Tiffany standing there and looking impatient." Sure enough, Tiffany and Savannah stood in the garage waiting for them, both in denim skirts and sweaters.

"Everybody ready?" Savannah asked, adjusting the strap on one of her stiletto heels.

"I brought extra pens," Erin offered, holding them out. "Anybody want one?"

"You can take the girl out of the Marines, but you can't take the Marine out of a girl," Tiffany commented. "I've never seen you not be ready."

"I like being prepared," Erin said defensively, though she was smiling as she handed out the pens.

"Stephanie's got photos that we can sign and hand out," Savannah informed them.

"Yes, I do," Stephanie said, holding open the door for them. "Tiffany and Savannah, I've got you seated in the middle, just to be safe. Heath, Erin, and Justin, you'll be on their left; Wade and Darren, you'll be on their right. I'll have security at each end of the table. It's pretty packed in there, though. Be ready." Heath and Justin linked arms with Erin as they entered to wild cheers, and Erin laughed, allowing Justin to pull out her seat. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce to you the newest superstars of the WWE: Darren Young, Wade Barrett, Tiffany Terrell, Savannah Fong, Justin Gabriel, Erin Harris, and Heath Slater." The cheers got louder, if possible, and Erin waved cheerfully. "We ask everyone to please move in an orderly, organized fashion and not take too long, as there are a lot of people who really want to meet our superstars."

With that, the security guards began to let people through, and the table was flooded with fans. Erin's first fan was an eight-year-old girl with a mile-wide grin. Two boys who could only be her brothers stood next to her, looking nervous, and their father stood behind them.

"What's your name, sweetie?" Erin asked, smiling at the little girl.

"I'm Cait," the girl chirped. Her smile turned nervous as she looked up at Erin. "Do you remember me?"

"I gave you my hat at my first match," Erin recalled, grinning. Cait pulled the hat off her head, holding it out.

"Could you sign it for me, please?" Cait asked. Erin laughed, taking it and signing it quickly.

"Are these your brothers?" she asked.

"I'm Brian," one brother said, still looking nervous. "Eric's my younger brother, and Cait's our baby sister."

"I'm not a baby, Brian!" Erin insisted, stomping one foot. Erin settled the hat back on her head.

"Have you boys been treating your little sister any better?" she asked, glancing from brother to brother. Both nodded frantically.

"Can you sign these for us?" Eric asked, handing over two pictures. "We even promised not to pick on Cait anymore."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Erin chuckled. "Let's see—To Eric, with best wishes for a great big brother." She handed over his picture, tapping the pen on her chin as she glanced over at Brian. "Dear Brian, keep your sister safe and best wishes in the future."

"Thank you very much," their father said. "Cait really looks up to you."

"I'm just glad to be here, sir," Erin replied, smiling as he ushered them away. Her next fan was a 17-year-old boy who tried what might have been the corniest pickup line she'd ever heard, followed by three giggling teenage girls and one exhausted-looking mother. Over the course of the next several hours, Erin signed autographs for twelve kids, four elderly couples, seven families, and six teenagers. She ran into only three crazies, as Wade would have called them, two of whom were immediately escorted away by security. The third dove across the table at her, and she had instinctively taken him down as she chicken-winged him and pressed one knee into his back. Security had handled it from there.

By the end of it, she was more than ready to go home, and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to have a cup of tea first or to persuade John to give her a back massage.

"Erin, you've got one more group by special request," Stephanie informed her quietly. "Do you mind staying a little bit later?" Erin signed inwardly, managing to smile.

"I'll stick around," she promised. The NXT rookies offered to wait for her, but Erin waved them off. "I'll see you guys back at the hotel." She followed Stephanie to a private room, her weariness disappearing as she saw that the room was occupied by five men in uniform, all grinning at her as she entered.

"They said they know you," Stephanie said, her smile every bit as broad as theirs. Erin stared at them, managing not to cry only by biting nearly clean through her lip.

"Steph, I'd like you to meet Nate Linden, Luke Davis, Chris McKinley, Mark Granger, and Logan Westby," Erin said finally. "These are five of my boys, and five of the best men you'll ever meet."

"I told them your squad just needs to mention your name, and they can get tickets to any event," Steph replied. "I'll leave you all alone." She closed the door behind her, and Erin was immediately mobbed by all five of them.

"How you doing, Baby Girl?" Chris asked, hugging her tightly.

"I was doing great until you called me that," Erin teased him, although she hugged him back every bit as tightly. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Well, we all live within an hour of here, and we figured we'd meet up," Mark informed her, stealing her from Nate and hugging her. "As it turns out, we've all got the extremely bad habit of bragging that we were in G.I. Jane's squad."

"I think the entire roster of Raw knows who my squad is, so it's mutual," Erin replied, smiling. She turned to Luke, standing on her tiptoes to hug him. Even still, his hug lifted her clear off the ground, and she laughed. "Hi, Tiny."

"So I hear most of the wrestlers you face are at least as big as me," Luke said. Erin nodded as he set her down, smiling up at him.

"There are only two wrestlers shorter than 5'10", other than me," she replied. "Rey Mysterio and Evan Bourne. Everybody else is freaking huge." She stepped back, watching Logan's hands as he signed something to her. She grinned, her hands moving quickly as she signed back.

"Hey, Tiny—what're they saying? You're the only other one who ever learned," Nate said.

"He said that for someone who constantly ordered us to take care of ourselves and reset when we got injured, she's not all that good at taking her own advice," Luke translated. "And she said she's a hypocrite and she knows it."

"Good to see you too, Logan," Erin laughed, hugging him tightly.

"You better be saving the best for last, because I didn't get a hug yet," Nate warned her. Erin laughed, hugging him as well.

"You bet," she promised. "Even if you gave me the worst nickname, you're still my big brother."

"And don't you forget it," Nate ordered, smiling. "We figured since we're in town, we should take you out to dinner. What's good around here?"

"I don't know—I've been in town three days," Erin laughed. "I hear there's a Thai place down the road that's pretty good. Want to go there?"

"Yes, and we'll be paying," Logan replied promptly. "We all came by bus though. None of us have cars. Is it walking distance?"

"Even for an exhausted, injury-recovering girl like me, it's walking distance," Erin promised.

"In that case," Luke began, holding open the door with an obsequious bow. "After you, my lady." Laughing, Erin joined her squad as they headed out.

* * *

A/N: I didn't want to bore anyone with a really long autograph section, but I definitely wanted to start introducing some more of Erin's squad. There'll be more of them coming along soon. In unrelated news, what did y'all think of Smackdown on Friday? I'm loving the Natalya-Beth Phoenix partnering. Anywho, read and review, please!


	24. Make Wishes Come True

Erin went in for one last check-up the day before Raw and came out nearly skipping, fully cleared to wrestle once more. Katherine informed her that Vince was looking for her, and Erin hurried upstairs, knocking on the Chairman's door before entering and taking the seat he offered her.

"Erin, you're probably wondering why I've asked you here," Mr. McMahon began. Erin nodded agreeably, offering a slight smile. "As you know, the WWE gives back to the community. We have several superstars who serve as Wish Ambassadors for the Make-a-Wish Foundation, and you've been offered a position."

"I'll take it," Erin said immediately. Mr. McMahon hid a smile at her quick response. "If I can make someone smile—sir, that would mean so much to me."

"That's good, because there's a girl whose wish is to meet you," Mr. McMahon went on. "She's an eighteen-year-old dying of brain cancer. Her wish was to spend one day with her favorite superstar in the WWE—you."

"I'm honored, sir," Erin replied firmly. "I can think of plenty of things for us to do."

"You've got a thousand-dollar budget," he informed her, handing over an envelope. "Anything more than that comes out of your pocket."

"No problem, sir," Erin replied. "Is that it?"

"That's it," Mr. McMahon agreed. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Erin promised, smiling as she left. She made a quick stop in the locker room, grabbing her spare set of clothes and a belt before hopping on her bike, peeling out and arriving at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. Once the nurses learned her name and her purpose there, they gladly agreed to help her with the surprise.

"If anyone deserves it, it's her," one of the nurses remarked. "She's always helping the little kids, especially the ones without parents. I can't wait to see her face." She handed over a face mask, the kind the nurses wore to prevent the spread of germs. Erin slipped the mask on, grinning beneath it as she followed the nurses in.

"You're new," Katie observed, looking at her. "I know everybody else's eyes, but I don't know yours."

"You don't recognize your favorite superstar?" Erin teased, lowering her mask. Katie's eyes widened, and Erin had never seen a broader smile as she laughed. "You've got a fairy godmother, apparently, and she arranged a day out for us. The nurses are even letting us go on our own, since I'm certified in first aid."

"You mean it?" Katie gasped, ecstatic. "My Make-a-Wish came true?"

"I even brought you clothes," Erin grinned. She handed over a pair of her cargo pants. They were loose on the younger girl's hips, and Erin handed over a belt and a U.S. Marines t-shirt as well. "There's a pair of boots under your bed, and a motorcycle jacket on the back of your wheelchair."

"Do I get to keep them?" Katie asked.

"They're all yours," Erin promised. "So do you want to hear the schedule for today?" Katie nodded, and Erin smiled. She turned away politely as the younger girl slipped into the new outfit. Erin handed over the boots, helping her into the wheelchair.

"Ready to go?" she asked. Katie nodded eagerly, and Erin wheeled her out the door, down the hallway, and out of the hospital.

"So there's really only a few stops we have to make—we're going to head out to buy new dresses, then go to the hair salon, because you're going to need to look good as the guest host of Raw."

"I—what?" Katie stammered, eyes wide. "I get to host Raw?" Her voice was a barely-audible squeak, and Erin chuckled.

"Yes, you get to host Raw," she replied. "And there's a salon we can go to after we get dresses."

"Oh…my…God!" Katie squealed, and Erin's chuckles turned to full-blown laughter. "This is amazing!"

"It's your day—anything that makes you happy, we'll do it. Excepting anything illegal, though," Erin replied, and Katie giggled as they rolled towards Bloomingdales. "So are there any of the superstars you really want to meet?"

"I can't wait to meet John Cena, honestly," Katie replied, and Erin laughed. "And I'd love to meet Evan Bourne, because he seems like a sweetheart, and Natalya and the Hart Dynasty, because they're just amazing, and the Bella Twins."

"I can arrange all that," Erin replied, smiling. "Anybody else?"

"I've got a huge crush on Kofi Kingston," Katie confessed, and Erin chuckled.

"Want to meet him before Raw? I can give him a call," she offered. "He's got an off day today, and I'm sure he'd be glad to meet us for dinner."

"You'd really do that?" Katie asked, tearing up slightly.

"Of course!" Erin replied, starting to dial. "I'll tell him my friend Katie is in town, and that she's really cute and she should come have dinner with us. If you want, I'll even make it a double-date—you, me, Kofi, and John."

"I'd really like that," Katie replied, smiling.

"Kingston," Kofi answered his phone, and Erin grinned.

"Hey, Kofi, it's Erin," she replied. "So my friend Katie is in town for the weekend, and we were going to grab dinner tonight before she heads out. Want to come with us? She's really cute, and she's single."

"Yeah, sure," Kofi agreed. "How about the Olive Garden on 13th and Broad, say 5:00?"

"You got it," Erin called. "See you then." She hung up, grinning cheerfully. "We have a date."

"I cannot believe this," Katie marveled, shaking her head. "I'm spending the day with Erin Harris, and we're about to have dinner with Kofi Kingston. Unreal." Erin texted John quickly, and smiled at his response.

"You're like a highschooler," Katie observed. "All smiles and giggles."

"He's honestly my first real boyfriend," Erin replied defensively, embarrassed. "I'm allowed to be giddy." She smiled to the waitress as her credit card was returned, tucking her wallet into her purse and rising to begin pushing Katie's wheelchair just half a block down the street to Bloomingdales. "So what kind of dress do you want?"

"I've always wanted a LBD—you know, a Little Black Dress?" Katie suggested. "What about you?"

"Something brightly-colored," Erin replied, shrugging. "I might even consider wearing it on the show tonight."

"I'm making that an addendum to my wish," Katie said quickly. "You have to wear the dress on Raw."

"Alright, I'll do it," Erin agreed, laughing.

"Can I help you ladies today?" a clerk asked.

"We're looking for a little black dress for her, and something brightly colored for me," Erin replied. "We'd prefer short to long, but we really just want it to be casual."

"I've got a jersey dress that would be absolutely perfect on you—it's the most vibrant shade of turquoise I've ever seen," the clerk said, eyeing her critically before turning her attention to Katie. "And there's a little black dress we just got in that would really show off your legs. Why don't you girls head to the dressing room, and I'll meet you back there?"

"Thank you," Erin replied, surprised. "That would be perfect."

"We have personal shoppers now?" Katie whispered, shocked.

"I've never had a personal shopper before," Erin shrugged. "Then again, I've never been to a high-end store like this before."

"Why don't you try these on, and I'll get you other dresses if these don't work out?" the clerk offered, joining them at the dressing rooms. Katie rose from her wheelchair, walking slowly into the first room. The clerk hung the dress from the hook on the inside of the door, nodding politely before closing the door and performing the same task for Erin.

Erin slid into the dress effortlessly, the silky material cool against her skin. In the adjacent room, she could hear Katie.

"Come out when you're ready and model it," Erin called.

"Alright," Katie replied, opening her door slowly. "Are you ready?"

"Considering I'm wearing a dress, as ready as I'll ever be," Erin laughed. She stepped out of her door as Katie did.

"You look good in dresses!" Katie informed her. Erin smiled, looking at Katie's dress. It was short, made of black silk with a scooping neckline bearing a butterfly-shaped embellishment. Sheer kimono sleeves hung low enough to cover the IV tracks on her arms, and Erin smiled.

"You look amazing," she replied. "And I have the perfect shoes. There was a selection in the room." She held up a pair of gladiator sandals. "They're really comfortable—I tried them on already." She sat down in front of Katie's wheelchair, cross-legged, and slipped the sandals on. "Do they feel alright?"

"I can't possibly pay for any of this," Katie protested. "I don't even know how much it costs—"

"Which is why it's my gift," Erin replied firmly. "Katie, today you get to live your fantasy. Don't worry about any of this, alright?"

"Alright," Katie agreed. "What about you? Are you going to wear that one?" Erin nodded, twirling to show off the jersey minidress in a brilliant shade of aquamarine, its v-neck embroidered with bright coral flowers. Three-quarter length sleeves covered the fading bruises on her shoulders and upper arms. A matching pair of turquoise-and-coral sandals was in her other hand, and Katie nodded approvingly. "For someone who claims on national television to have no style ability, you're not too shabby. Go put them on."

"Gee, thanks," Erin said sarcastically, though she smiled as she ducked into a changing room. "Your compliments are greatly appreciated." She stepped out just as quickly, purse in hand, twirling to show off her dress once more. Katie clapped, and Erin's smile became ever-so-slightly more genuine as she pushed Katie's wheelchair to the register. "We'll take what we're wearing, and throw in a pair of earrings for her. Pearls should do it."

"Here you are," the clerk offered, handing over a pair of perfect white pearls. "How will you be paying?" Erin handed over her credit card, and the clerk swiped it with a sycophantic smile. "If you could just sign here, please." Erin added her signature to the slip before pushing Katie's wheelchair out onto the road once more.

"Hair salon time!" Erin cheered, continuing down the sidewalk.

"Somehow, I get the feeling you enjoy the chance to be girly every now and again," Katie remarked. Erin smiled crookedly, but didn't deny it.

"Anything in particular you want done with your hair?" she inquired instead.

"I always wanted to be a brunette," Katie confessed. "There are just so many stereotypes associated with being blond."

"Dark hair it is," Erin replied cheerfully, wheeling her into the salon.

"How can I help you ladies today?" the receptionist asked.

"We've got a double date tonight," Erin explained. "First date for her, but I'm going with my boyfriend."

"So one dress-to-impress, and one a bit more casual," the receptionist agreed.

"And I was hoping to change my hair color," Katie added. "I want to go darker."

"I've got a gorgeous shade of walnut that would look perfect on you," the receptionist promised. "Is it okay to move you into one of our chairs, or would you prefer to stay in yours?"

"I can move if someone helps me," Katie shrugged.

"I've got you," Erin replied, lifting her easily and placing her in the open chair. "I'll take the one next to you." The receptionist waved over a second hairdresser, and Erin smiled reassuringly at Katie as she took her seat.

"So what are you looking for with your hair?" the second hairdresser asked. "I'm Leah, by the way. And that's Alicia."

"Erin and Katie," Erin replied. "I was hoping to have it be straight for once, actually. I never have the patience to deal with it."

"I've got a low ponytail that'll be just perfect," Leah informed her. "All you have to do is hold still."

"That I can manage," Erin laughed. "Katie, how're you doing over there?"

"I feel like the daughter of the Tin Man and the Bionic Woman," Katie remarked, pointing to the foils that had begun to cover her hair. "In the best possible sense, of course."

"You're going to look gorgeous, I promise," Alicia replied. "Brunette is perfect for your complexion. And would it be alright if I gave you some auburn lowlights?"

"Sure," Katie shrugged. "Whatever you think will look good."

"I'm thinking curls, actually," Alicia went on. "I can do a high ponytail with curls, and I've got this pearl band that I can wrap around the base. You're going to knock him dead, whoever he is."

"Thanks," Katie replied shyly.

"We need to move you to the dryers to let these dry. Would it be alright if I lift you into your wheelchair?" Alicia asked. "I promise I'm strong enough."

"Sure!" Katie answered, somewhat surprised. "Thank you for asking first, though." Alicia smiled, carefully scooping Katie from her seat and placing her in the wheelchair, wheeling her to the dryers and placing her beneath one.

"If you don't mind my asking, what put you in a wheelchair?" Leah called.

"I'm dying," Katie said plainly, unconcerned. "I've got brain cancer, and I get fatigued very quickly when I'm walking. We stopped the chemo, though, since it wasn't doing anything. Thus the hair." Leah looked surprised for a moment, but not unduly worried.

"My brother has leukemia," Alicia replied. "I'm sure he'd love to meet you sometime." She turned to Erin. "How about you—are you two sisters?" Her hands deftly separated Erin's hair into sections for her to straighten as she chattered.

"For today, we are," Erin replied, smiling at Katie. "She's the pretty one, and I'm the smart one."

"Got it," Leah laughed. "Well, Miss Pretty One, your foils are dry, so let's get your hair styled." She sat Katie down in the styling chair, carefully fixing her newly-brunette hair into a curled updo that left several tendrils to frame her face. "There! You look gorgeous."

"Thank you," Katie said, suddenly shy. Erin laughed, handing over her credit card to pay. Alicia waved her off.

"This one's on the house," she replied, shaking her head. "You enjoy yourselves, alright?"

"Thank you," Erin said quietly. "You're making her wish come true today, and I really appreciate it."

"We're glad to help," Alicia replied, equally quiet. "We'll be sure to watch Raw tonight—yes, I actually know who you are. My brother got me hooked on Raw years ago. Good luck." Erin shook her hand, smiling, before collecting Katie and wheeling her out.

"What time is it?" Katie asked anxiously. "I don't want to be late."

"Relax," Erin replied, laughing. "John made the reservation for 5:00, since it's Raw night and we have to be there by 7:00 at the latest. We'll have plenty of time to eat, and it's just 4:45 now. We can head over and grab the table, and they'll meet us there."

"And how far is it?" Katie asked, still anxious.

"About two blocks," Erin assured her. "We'll be there in no time." And she was right; it took them all of five minutes to arrive at Ortino's Italian restaurant. "We've got a reservation for 5:00—it's probably under Cena," she informed the hostess.

"Yes—your table is already set, so you ladies can take a seat," the hostess replied, leading them to an outdoor table set for four. "Do you want anything to drink while you're waiting?"

"I'll take a lemonade, please," Katie requested.

"I'll have the same," Erin added. She glanced over Katie's shoulder as the hostess left, smiling as she caught sight of John. "Hey, John," she called, rising to greet him.

"Wow," John said quietly, running his hand along the hem of her dress, which skimmed her mid-thigh and left the rest of her legs bare. "Sexy." Erin laughed, taking his hand.

"I'm glad you think so," she said, kissing him softly. "John, I'd like you to meet Katie Potter. Katie, I'm sure you recognize him, but this is John Cena."

"Pleased to meet you," John said warmly, shaking her hand. Katie's eyes were as big as saucers, and Erin hid a smile. "Kofi's just parking, but he should be here any minute."

"Talking about me?" Kofi called, clapping John on the shoulder as he joined them. "Figures."

"Kofi, this is my friend Katie," Erin replied, and Katie smiled shyly. "Katie, Kofi Kingston."

"You do have cute friends," Kofi informed Erin, and she grinned. Katie blushed as Kofi took her hand, kissing it with a roguish grin.

"You're only saying that because it's true," Erin teased. "Then again, you haven't met my squad yet, so there's time for you to change your mind."

"True," Kofi admitted. "You girls ready to order?"

"I think so," Katie replied, trying not to sound completely starstruck. Erin wheeled her back to the table, and Kofi took the seat next to the younger girl as John pulled out a chair for Erin.

"What can I get you all today?" the waitress asked, coming over.

"I'll take the fettuccine alfredo," Katie said, smiling. "And could I get a peach-raspberry iced tea?"

"Of course," the waitress replied. "And for you, miss?"

"I'll have the venetian apricot chicken and a lemon cream soda," Erin replied, handing over her menu.

"I'll take the ravioli di portobello and glass of pinot noir," Kofi added.

"And I'll have the seafood portofino and a Sam Adams," John said finally.

"I'll have your drinks in just a minute," the waitress assured them.

` "So Katie, I hear you're our host for the night?" Kofi said conversationally.

"I'm really excited for it," Katie replied, smiling. "I used to go to WWE shows when I was little, until I got the tumor and I couldn't anymore. I'm really excited to be back."

"We're every bit as excited to have you," John assured her. "I get the feeling this is going to be a really fun night."

"You bet it is," Katie replied, and they all laughed.

* * *

A/N: In celebration of the fact that Cena's been re-hired, I'm giving you an extra chapter this week! I just HAD to write a Make-a-Wish chapter. I know the WWE is really involved in the organization—which is an absolutely incredible organization, by the way, and I'm a huge fan of their work. Read and review, please!


	25. Get Ready to Rumble

Backstage, Erin visited Raw's hair and makeup room for the first time, where they touched up Katie's hair and makeup before Erin wheeled her backstage.

"You ready, Katie?" Erin asked, pausing to crouch next to the younger girl's wheelchair. Katie took a deep breath, nodding.

"I'm ready," she replied, a slow smile spreading across her face. Erin grabbed a microphone, passing one to Katie. Kofi stepped behind Katie's wheelchair, ready to wheel her out, and John joined them quickly.

"Hey, Steve—hold off on the pyrotechnics, alright?" she called.

"You got it, G.I. Jane," Steve promised. "Cueing the music now."

The familiar strains of "Bleed It Out" rang out over the stadium, and Erin made her way out onto the ramp to thunderous applause.

"So I've got a friend to bring out here today," Erin began, smiling. "She happens to be our guest host as well. She's here from the Make-a-Wish Foundation, and we made some arrangements to bring her here tonight. So as a favor to me, I'd like you to give the loudest, craziest, warmest welcome you can possibly manage to my friend Katie Potter."

Erin was nearly deafened by the roar that arose from the crowd as Kofi pushed Katie's wheelchair out onto the ramp, and she smiled, slipping her hand into John's before handing the microphone over to Katie.

"Hi, everybody," Katie said shyly. The roars got even louder, if possible, and Katie waved cheerfully. "I can't believe that I'm actually here on WWE Raw, let alone hosting the show." She paused as the crowd slowly quieted, and Kofi continued to roll her down to the ring. "So Erin mentioned to you that I'm here from the Make-a-Wish Foundation, but she didn't tell you that she was my wish, because I'm 18 years old with a year left to live." The crowd fell silent at that, and she smiled crookedly. "Tonight, though, I'm just a star-struck girl from New York who's living her dream, and this means so much to me." John lifted her carefully from her chair as Kofi climbed into the ring, ascending the stairs before placing her gently in Kofi's arms. Kofi lifted her onto his shoulders as John chivalrously offered his hand to Erin, sliding her into the ring.

"I think you get to make some matches, right?" John prompted her.

"And I've got a few in mind," Katie replied promptly. "The first one I'd really like to see is a Divas match, actually—I want Beth Phoenix to get a match against Michelle McCool, but we'll have a special guest referee."

"And who might that be?" John asked teasingly, playing it up for the crowd.

"Me," Katie replied, grinning. To the crowd, she added, "And in case you're wondering, yes, I can walk. I just get tired rather quickly, so a match should be no problem. Additionally, Erin Harris will serve as guest enforcer."

"Any other matches you'd like to see tonight?" Erin asked.

"I'm scheduling a six-man tag team match," Katie went on. "And since I can bring in anyone I want, from any brand of the WWE, I'm pitting you, John, and Kofi against Jack Swagger, the Miz, and Edge. I think it should be an interesting mix of styles."

"Fair enough," Kofi agreed. "Anything else?"

"I'd always wanted to see DX live, but I guess that's one wish that won't be happening," Katie said, trying not to look too upset.

"Now, see, you'd mentioned that in your wish," Erin reminded her. "Now me, I'm still new, and I've got no clout whatsoever here. But I asked a few people, and they asked a few people, and—well, I'll just let him tell you." She pointed to the ramp as Triple H's music blasted from the speakers, and he stood at the top of the ramp.

"You know the WWE is happy to be able to grant wishes through the Make-a-Wish Foundation," Hunter began. "So when I got the call about you wanting to see DX, I couldn't let that go unanswered. I talked to my wife, who talked to her father, who has agreed to a one night reunion of DX." Katie's jaw dropped as Shawn Michaels stepped out behind him, smiling broadly.

"Are you serious?" Katie gasped, and Erin couldn't help but grin.

"All we need is somebody to fight," Shawn replied. "And if we can make a request, we'd really like to face CM Punk and Luke Gallows."

"You got it," Katie managed, a slow smile spreading across her face. "This may be the single best day of my life, guys—thank you so much!"

The stadium echoed with thunderous applause as Kofi carried Katie out, and the ring attendants cleaned the ring, preparing it for the matches.

* * *

A/N: I know this was a really short chapter. It's kind of a transition one. But because it's Christmas, I'm giving you not one, not two, but THREE new chapters. Merry Christmas, Happy (Belated) Hanukkah, and have a wonderful New Year. Read and review, please!


	26. Remember Why You Do It

Backstage once more, Erin helped Beth tape up, braiding her friend's hair back so that it would be harder for Michelle to grab.

"I grabbed a shirt for you," Katie called as Kofi wheeled her over. Erin laughed, ducking into the bathroom to change into her cargo pants and the black-and-white striped shirt. "And they're not flattering on anyone, apparently."

"I'm not here to look pretty," Erin called back, grinning. "Ready to go?"

"Beth!" Ted called. Beth turned, surprised but smiling, as her boyfriend kissed her soundly. Erin chuckled, shaking her head. "I was going to surprise you after the show, but I couldn't miss seeing this match front-row." Beth's smile was radiant as she slipped her hand into Ted's as they headed towards the ramp.

"Introducing first, escorted by Kofi Kingston and John Cena, your guest referee and guest enforcer, Katie Potter and Erin Harris!" Justin announced. Katie waved as Erin wheeled her down the ramp, John and Kofi just a step behind them. The cheers for them were thunderous, and Erin knew plenty of them were for Katie. Kofi collapsed the wheelchair once Katie had been lifted into the ring, and Erin took up her post ringside.

"Making her way to the ring, accompanied by Ted Dibiase, the current Women's Champion—Beth Phoenix!" Justin announced. Ted held down the ropes as Beth climbed into the ring, and Erin smiled up at them. "And the challenger, one half of Team Lay-Cool, Michelle McCool, accompanied by her tag-team partner, Layla El!" There were significantly fewer cheers for Michelle, punctuated by far more boos, and Erin grinned at that.

"Now, let's have a nice, clean match," Katie cautioned as Michelle and Beth moved to their respective corners. Layla took up her post at the corner furthest from Erin, watching her with trepidation. The bell rang, and the two Divas met at the center of the ring. Michelle went immediately for a roundhouse kick that Beth ducked under, grabbing Michelle and pulling her into a backbreaker that left Michelle writhing in pain on the mats. When Michelle finally made it back to her feet, Beth hit her with a missile dropkick. Michelle almost managed to pull Beth into a belly-to-belly suplex, but Beth wriggled out of it just in time, Irish whipping her into the ropes instead. As Michelle bounced back, Beth military pressed her, holding her high overhead. Michelle tried to drive her knee into Beth's head, but Beth threw her across the ring, and Michelle lay stunned. Layla scrambled under the ropes, grabbing Beth's ankle and yanking hard, so that Beth fell face-first into the ropes.

"Get out of the ring!" Katie yelled. Layla ignored her, and Erin hopped quickly into the ring, hauling Layla into a fireman's carry and throwing her over the top rope. The crowd roared its approval even as Michelle shrieked. Taking advantage of the distraction, Beth chicken-winged Michelle, raising her high and dropping her with the Glam Slam before pinning her. Katie dropped to the mats next to them, hitting the ground three times.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I don't believe it—this match lasted less than four minutes, and Michelle McCool is down for the count!" Jerry marveled. Katie lifted Beth's hand, holding it high even as she laughed.

"That was amazing!" she exclaimed. Beth laughed, turning to hug the younger girl.

"I couldn't have done it without you making that match for me," she reminded Katie. "Come on. Let's get you back in that absolutely gorgeous dress before Erin's match, alright?" Katie laughed, following Beth and Erin backstage as the crowd cheered all three of them. Once again, John and Kofi were just behind them, Kofi carrying Katie's wheelchair as she walked slowly up the ramp.

By the time they were backstage, Katie was breathing heavily, and Kofi quickly unfolded the wheelchair for her to sit down. Kofi took her back to the hair and makeup room to be dressed, and Erin changed into her sports bra and t-shirt, lacing up her combat boots and taping her wrists before braiding her hair tightly.

"Beth says they'll be a few minutes," John informed her, coming out of his locker room. "How are you feeling?"

"My back is tight," Erin hinted. John chuckled, taking a seat on a vacant folding chair and pulling her into his lap.

"I can fix that," he replied, his voice low, beginning to work on the knots in her shoulders. Erin let out a sigh of relief, relaxing against him. John smiled, moving his hands to her lower back, releasing the tension there, and Erin turned her head so that she could kiss him over her shoulder. John smiled against her mouth, lifting and turning her so that she was facing him.

"We leave you two alone for two minutes and this is what we come back to?" Beth called. Erin broke the kiss, blushing, and John laughed, taking her face in his hands and pulling her back down.

"We have ten more minutes before the match," he reminded her. "And they're just jealous."

"I'll show you jealous," Beth grumbled, grabbing the lapels of Ted's jacket and pushing him against the wall as she kissed him.

"Oh, get a room, all of you," Kofi called. Erin shook her head stubbornly without breaking the kiss, and Beth just ignored him. "Well, I wouldn't want our guest host to feel left out. He bent down and kissed Katie swiftly, and she promptly turned a brilliant shade of red that drew Beth's and Erin's attention immediately. "Ha! I managed to make you stop. I win."

"Actually, I think Katie won," Erin corrected. "And judging by the brightness of that blush, I'd say she hit the jackpot." Katie still couldn't manage to say anything, and Erin laughed. "Let's go. We've got some butt to kick and a match to win."

"Yes, ma'am," John said, groaning as he lifted her to her feet and stood behind her. "Who do we want out there first?"

"Why don't we let our guest host decide, once she manages to get her voice back?" Erin suggested, teasing.

"Kofi can go first," Katie said finally, still blushing.

"See, she likes me best," Kofi boasted. Erin punched his arm. "Ow. Save it for Miz and Swagger and Edge."

"Fine," Erin grumbled, following him and Katie out to the ramp. Rather than any of their music playing as they walked out, "Don't You Know You're Beautiful" by Kelly Pickler echoed over the stadium, and Katie smiled, surprised.

"You know my favorite song, too?" she asked.

"And told the soundboard guys to cue it up," Erin replied, smiling proudly. Kofi wheeled Katie to a seat next to Jerry and Michael—with Jerry announcing pointedly that she had chosen to sit next to him, leading to a five-minute bickering session on who the Divas liked better—before joining John and Erin in the ring. Jack, Miz, and Edge joined them after a moment, and John adjusted his armband. Erin handed her dog tags to Katie once she'd kissed them for luck, and cracked her neck experimentally. "Let's go, Kofi."

It was Edge who went for the first attack, throwing a punch at Kofi's head. Kofi avoided it easily, grabbing Edge's arm as it passed and sending him into the corner, following up with a flying forearm smash that left Edge reeling. He managed to stagger away, catching Kofi's head and waist as he turned, driving him to the ground with a half nelson bulldog. Kofi shook his head groggily, using the ropes to pull himself up. He countered Edge's charge with a pendulum kick from the corner, catching Edge's jaw. The Rated-R Superstar dropped and Kofi went for a cover. Edge just managed to kick out, rolling away. Undeterred, Kofi hit him with a Russian legsweep as soon as Edge rose. When Edge finally made it to his feet, Kofi followed it up with a crossbody, going for a pin once more. Edge kicked out at two, ducking away from Kofi's punch and dragging him into an inverted DDT. Kofi rolled away, looking slightly wobbly, and managed to tag John in. Still somewhat groggy himself, Edge backed away to tag the Miz.

John was on the offensive immediately, nailing Miz with a running leaping shoulder block. When Miz came back off the ropes, John followed it up with a running one-handed bulldog. Miz staggered, swinging for a discus punch that missed wildly. John dragged him into a vertical suplex instead, then hit him with a diving leg drop bulldog once he rose. When John pulled him up for the Attitude Adjustment, Miz managed to slip out, driving a kick into John's stomach. When John stumbled into the corner, Miz followed it with a swinging corner clothesline. John staggered away, but managed a sitout hip toss as Miz charged him once more. Miz kicked out at two on the pin, and Jack managed to tag himself in on Miz's back. John stepped back immediately, grinning at Erin.

"I wouldn't want you to miss out on all the fun," he called, tagging her in quickly. Erin laughed as she vaulted over the ropes, turning the move into a dropkick. Jack was on his feet quickly, though, pulling her into a German suplex and slamming her to the ground. Erin grimaced, reeling, as he pulled her to the corner, bouncing off of the ropes to land a corner slingshot splash. She gasped for air, rolling to avoid his attempted stomp to the ribs, rolling up to hit him with a Pele kick that sent him staggering just long enough for her to get up. When he came at her again, she nailed his jaw with a roundhouse kick. Jack staggered, but shook his head stubbornly. Erin slammed kick after kick into his ribs until he looked ready to fall, then pulled him into a shoulder throw. When he fell, she pounced on him, pulling him into an armbar. Jack grimaced in pain, refusing to cry out, and Erin gritted her teeth, putting more pressure on his shoulder. There was a sudden pain in her neck, and she flew into the ropes, shaking her head in complete confusion.

"And Miz has interrupted this match with a baseball slide to Erin Harris' head—this doesn't look good for her," Jerry remarked. Erin shook her head once more, blinking as the world came back into focus just in time to see Jack step forward, dragging her through a vertical suplex. He pulled her upright once more, Irish whipping her into the ropes, and charging forward for a running knee lift. Erin just barely avoided it by bouncing onto the top rope. Jack's knee connected painfully with the corner post, and Erin, still atop the ropes, waited for him to stagger backwards before hitting him with a picture-perfect dragonrana. Jack kicked out from the rana hold at two and half, but Erin hit him with a running knee that left him reeling. He made his way to his feet groggily, dodging Erin's strike to his shoulder. When she lunged towards him again, he hauled her up, nearly crushing her ribs with the strength of his grip as he hit her with an Oklahoma stampede. Erin lay against the mats, grimacing feebly, back aching with the force of the blows. As he went to pull her into a German suplex, she managed to roll away, using the ropes to pull herself to her feet and hit him with a flying chuck as he came at her once more. With a groan of effort, she climbed to the top ropes. The cheers of the crowd restored much of the energy she'd lost, and she saluted them proudly before hitting Jack with the G.I. Jane. This time, he couldn't kick out, and the bell rang as Kofi and John climbed into the ring with her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners—the team of Erin Harris, John Cena, and Kofi Kingston!" Justin announced. Erin grinned, even as her muscles pulled when the referee raised her hand.

"Are you okay?" John asked quickly, his hands moving instinctively to her back. Erin nodded, wincing slightly.

"That Oklahoma stampede wasn't exactly fun," she replied, smiling slightly.

"I'll give you a back massage later," he promised, and Erin's smile grew wider.

"I like the sound of that," Erin said, smiling, as she turned to wave to Katie. Kofi hopped out of the ring, taking the seat next to her. "Hey, Katie—we'll be down in a minute. I need to have them look at my back." Katie nodded, waving her off, and Erin slid out of the ring, hand in hand with John.

Backstage, the trainers covered her back with IcyHot patches before allowing her to leave, and she waited for John to change into a clean shirt before joining him. Shawn and Hunter were just backstage, waiting for their music before heading out.

"Want to join us?" Shawn offered, shrugging into his DX gear.

"Sure," John agreed immediately. "Erin? You in?"

"Why not?" Erin agreed, laughing.

"I won't even make any awkward comments about sucking it," Hunter promised, winking at her. John cleared his throat loudly, but Erin just shook her head.

"That's smart, if you ever want to have more kids," she replied sweetly, and Shawn chuckled. The DX music came on, and Hunter and Shawn led the way out onto the ramp.

"Ladies and gentlemen, presenting first, the one-night-only reunited DX team of the Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels, and the King, the Game, Triple H!" Justin Roberts announced. "Joining them, the Champ John Cena and G.I. Jane Erin Harris!"

Kofi lifted Katie onto his shoulders so that she could watch as they came down the ramp. Erin couldn't help but laugh as she mimicked DX's signature crotch chop before joining Katie and Kofi at the announcers' table. John pulled out a chair for her quickly, and Erin smiled as she sat down.

"And the challengers, the Straight Edge Superstar and the First Disciple of Straight Edge—the team of CM Punk and Luke Gallows!" Justin went on. The stadium echoed with boos and jeering whistles, but Punk ignored them, Serena and Luke flanking him as they headed to the ring. Serena took up a post outside of the ring, and Erin raised her eyebrows.

"If she starts anything, you can go get her," Katie laughed. Erin grinned ruefully.

"Am I that easy to read?" she asked. John, Katie, and Kofi all nodded, and Erin laughed.

"The following is a tag-team match set for one fall," Justin concluded, ducking out of the ring as Hunter and Luke squared off. The two circled each other warily, crashing together in the center of the ring. Neither gained any clear advantage, and both staggered backwards, still on edge. Impatient, Hunter charged Luke, but Luke hit him with a big boot to the jaw that sent Hunter to the mats. Luke was on him immediately, driving blow after blow into his head. Hunter rolled out from under him, shaking his head groggily. When Luke charged him again, Hunter exploded off of the ropes, hitting him with a running clothesline. Luke got back to his feet quickly, but Hunter followed it up with a running neckbreaker. Luke made his way back to his feet slowly. When Hunter charged once more, Luke headbutted him, sending Hunter staggering. Seizing the opportunity, Luke Irish whipped Hunter into the corner, hitting him with a body avalanche. Hunter slumped down against the corner post, and at Punk's command, Luke tagged the Straight Edge Savior in.

Punk went straight to work, hauling Hunter to his feet and promptly nailing him with a snap scoop powerslam before going for the pin. Hunter kicked out at two, rolling away slightly. Impatient, Punk dragged him back to his feet before hitting him with a running bulldog that he aimed to follow up with a running knee. Hunter threw himself back against the mats, avoiding Punk's knee and rolling away to tag in Shawn. There was a roar of approval as Shawn climbed into the ring, dropkicking Punk into the adjacent corner post and following it up with a diving elbow drop. Punk clutched his jaw, reeling, and Shawn glanced back at his partner. Hunter nodded, holding out his hand for the tag, and Shawn tagged him in before turning his attention to Luke, who was beginning to climb into the ring. Just as he cleared the ropes, Shawn hit him with the Sweet Chin Music, knocking him out of the ring, and Serena rushed to Luke immediately. When Shawn jumped out of the ring to keep Luke occupied, Serena pounced on him, clinging to his back. Erin was out of her chair in a flash, dragging Serena's arms into a double chickenwing and holding her back.

"Not today, sweetheart," she said sweetly, pressing Serena overhead and tossing her over the barricade. Her head snapped back suddenly as someone tackled her from behind, and she rolled over to see the mystery member of the Straight Edge Society looming over her. Undeterred, she swept his legs out from under him and sat on him just as John reached them.

"Are you alright?" he asked tenderly. Erin nodded, smiling up at him. "May I?" Erin rose with a dramatic bow, and John hauled the masked man up into an Attitude Adjustment that left him stretched out on the floor.

Back in the ring, Hunter had managed to land successive spinebusters and backbreakers, and Punk was slowly dragging himself back to his feet on the corner ropes. Shawn resumed his post at the corner, and Hunter tagged him in quickly. Shawn hopped into the ring, tagging Hunter's hand, and Katie watched, an anticipatory smile spreading over her face.

"This is my favorite tag team finisher," she whispered to Kofi, grinning gleefully. As soon as Punk turned, Shawn nailed him with the Sweet Chin Music. Punk spun right into Hunter, as Shawn climbed out of the ring before the five-count was up, and Hunter finished Punk off with a pedigree. The bell rang as the referee shouted the three-count, and Shawn slid out of the ring before the referee could raise his hand. Katie looked at him quizzically until he lifted her out of her seat, helping her into the ring and raising his arms, indicating that she should do the same. Katie laughed as she performed DX's signature move, and Hunter and Shawn both raised her hands high. John, Kofi, and Erin quickly joined them, and Erin handed out microphones.

"I know it's the end of the show and we have to wrap up, but we just wanted to thank you," Kofi explained, turning to Katie. "What do you guys think—did she set up some good matches?"

The WWE universe's response was a resounding yes that echoed over the stadium, and Katie blushed.

"Katie, I know you were here because you made a wish, but I can't thank you enough for making my wish of coming back, even if only for one match, come true," Shawn added. "I'm honored that I could be a part of your wish, and you should know that you are welcome here anytime. Just tell them you're with me, or Hunter, or John, or Kofi, or Erin—any of us will get you backstage anytime you want." Katie blinked back tears, taking a moment before speaking.

"I can't begin to tell you how much this has meant to me," she said finally, her voice hoarse with unshed tears. "When I was diagnosed with this tumor, they gave me three months to live. That was a year ago, and every day since has been a blessing. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." The lights went down on them as Erin pulled the younger girl into a hug, holding Katie tightly.

"Thank you," Erin whispered. Katie looked up at her, teary-eyed, managing a small smile. "Come on. Time to bring you back to the hospital." Katie nodded, yawning as Erin helped her from the ring and back into her wheelchair. "Kofi, John, coming with us?"

"You bet," John called, sliding out of the ring to join them. Kofi was right behind him, taking the handles of Katie's wheelchair before Erin could. "Katie, are your parents meeting us there?"

"No, they're taking my little brother to a soccer tournament this weekend. I wanted them to have some time to themselves, since they're always with me at the hospital or at home."

"That's incredibly sweet of you," Kofi remarked. Katie craned her head to smile up at him, and Kofi bent down to kiss her forehead. "Why don't we take my car? And Katie automatically get shotgun, by the way."

"Fine by me," Erin replied, glancing at John, and John chuckled, taking her hand. Kofi's Escalade was just out front, and Erin folded Katie's wheelchair as Kofi helped her into the front seat. The trip back to the hospital was a short, quiet one, and Erin could see that Katie was struggling to stay awake. John kept his hand intertwined in Erin's for the whole trip, and Erin rested her head against his shoulder, feeling somewhat weary herself.

"Ready to go?" Kofi asked, gently shaking Katie awake. Katie nodded sleepily as he helped her into her wheelchair and wheeled her into the hospital, where a contingent of nurses awaited them.

"How was she?" one asked Erin, pulling her aside.

"She was fine—ate well, didn't walk too much, no complaints," Erin replied, equally quiet. "There's a bag on the back of her chair with some gifts from us inside—make sure they stay with her?"

"Of course," the nurse promised. Erin made her way over to Katie one last time.

"It's been an honor and a privilege," she informed the younger girl, saluting her. Katie giggled, hugging Erin.

"Thank you again," she replied, smiling. "Now go kick Randy's ass at Summerslam, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Erin promised, stepping back and saluting once more before following John and Kofi out.

"You did good today," John informed her quietly, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Erin smiled, nodding. "You did good."

* * *

A/N: So that concludes the Make-a-Wish chapters, but you haven't seen the last of Katie Potter just yet. She'll be back…when you least expect it. Bwahahaha. This was a fun chapter to write, so I hope you enjoyed it! Read and review, please!


	27. Spend Time With the Next Generation

Tuesday morning dawned bright and sunny, and Erin was drenched with sweat by the time she finished her run. A cool shower was exactly what she needed, and she changed into black running shorts and a loose white tee, trying to beat the heat.

"Have I mentioned how annoying it is when you're all cheerful and happy after a run, and I'm barely awake?" Beth yawned. Erin chuckled, handing over a cup of coffee. "Never mind. I have coffee and all is forgiven."

"Thank you, oh generous one," Erin replied, shaking her head, grinning. "Got any plans for the day?"

"Ted and I are going to the beach for the day—do you and John want to come?" Beth offered.

"I'd love to, but I've got NXT tonight," Erin explained. "I'll probably play guitar for a bit, maybe lift this afternoon, and head over early. Thanks for the offer, though."

Beth shrugged, slowly beginning to wake up. Erin watched her, amused, before pulling out her guitar, kicking her feet up, and beginning to fingerstyle idly, moving through riffs from the Beatles' "With a Little Help From my Friends" and Coldplay's "The Scientist" without any particular intensity. When Beth finally was ready to go an hour later, Erin was still playing, working her way through a much slower version of the opening riffs of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck." Not five minutes later, though, there was a knock at the suite door, and Erin glanced up from her guitar.

"Come in!" she called, strumming absentmindedly. Heath ducked in, followed by Justin and Wade. "Hey, boys."

"We were wondering if you wanted to head down the stadium with us—we were hoping to get some practice as a team before this evening," Justin explained. "What do you think?"

"Sounds like a great idea," Erin agreed, setting aside her guitar. Her bag was already packed, and she grabbed her wallet from the nightstand before following them out. "Walk, drive, or taxi?"

"Drive—my car's out front," Heath replied.

"What do you drive?" Erin asked, curious.

"A 1970 Plymouth GTX 440," Heath replied, smiling proudly as they caught sight of the classic American muscle design. "First one to the car can have shotgun!" Erin took off, narrowly beating Wade for the front seat, and she laughed.

"What was that you were saying about a strength-based wrestler always beating a speed-based one?" she teased. Wade chuckled, sliding into the backseat instead.

"So we figure since none of us have never trained any tag team moves together, I thought we should just get used to each others' styles," Justin said. Erin nodded agreeably. "Wade, I know you're more of a grappler, and you've got the bareknuckles brawling background, and Erin, you've got the best aerial game of any of us." Erin grinned wryly.

"I've also got the Marine martial arts program and kajukenbo," she reminded him. "And I'd definitely describe your style as more air-based than mat-based, but you and Heath are both pretty versatile."

"Honestly, all four of us are," Heath conceded. "I think that'll really help us. And Erin, I'm pretty excited to whip out some of your aerial moves."

"Wait—you gave him a private lesson?" Justin asked, mock-angry. "I want one!" Erin chuckled.

"You could probably suggest that to Mr. McMahon—have guest superstars come in to work on specific moves each week, in addition to the mentors," Wade suggested. "I'd definitely be interested."

"I can mention it to Steph," Erin offered.

"You know, she's really not as bad as everybody said she was," Heath remarked. "We were told she's really bitchy, but she seems nice."

"She honestly is," Erin replied. "She's done stuff in her past she's not exactly proud of, but she's really passionate about this business. Actually, she mentioned that she wants to get to know all of the NXT rookies a bit better, and I think she's stopping by once she has some more free time."

"Sounds good to me," Justin agreed. "So—you know Brie Bella, right? Do you think you could introduce me sometime?" Erin hid a smile.

"How about after NXT tonight? I know the girls are planning to go out," she offered. "And I think I can get you an introduction—John says I'm an incurable matchmaker."

"I have no problem with that," Justin laughed. "Alright. All of us have done tag team matches before, right?"

"I think I might be the only one who hasn't," Erin confessed, biting her lip. She grinned. "But my teachers always said I played well with others." Heath chuckled.

"Are you familiar with any tag team moves?" he asked.

"Well, I know the rules—once you tag, you have five seconds to get out and you can't tag in unless you're within the rope's length of the corner," Erin said slowly. "And I've seen the Hart Attack and Poetry in Motion."

"I'd like to try Poetry in Motion," Wade mentioned. "Specifically, I'd like you to be the one jumping off of my back, because I think you'd hurt the least."

"Are you calling me fat?" Justin demanded, mock-angrily.

"Yes, because you're so huge," Erin said sarcastically, and Justin chuckled. "I'd be willing to give it a try. I think I'd like to turn the jump into a headscissors takedown."

"Now that I'd like to see," Heath informed them. "I think we could do some good stuff with Irish whipping and slingshots and all. Do you think we could try and avoid low blows, though? No cheapshots from the corners?"

"No problem," Wade promised. "And Erin, the biggest thing to keep in mind strategy-wise is to keep your opponent out of their own corner." He opened the door for her as they pulled into the parking lot of the stadium, going on. "Other than that, just use whatever moves you like."

"So are you all coming to Summerslam?" Erin asked.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Justin replied immediately. "I mean, we're all supposed to go for the autograph signing and exposure and all that, but I'm excited to see the matches. You're main-eventing it, aren't you?"

"Mr. McMahon said that the WWE Unvirse has really gotten invested in my feud with Randy," Erin shrugged. "He said a main event would really be the best stage for the showdown."

"Well, we'll all be cheering for you," Wade promised. "It really seems like Mr. McMahon is going for a grudge match theme this year. The triple-threat tag team match should be fun, and I really can't wait to see Otunga get put in his place."

"As much exposure as he'll be getting, it'll be nice to see Truth kick his ass, yes," Erin agreed, grinning. "Alright. Ring time!"

"Best time of the day," Justin said cheerfully. "Hey—anybody want to do the warmup Matt and I use?" There was a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Depends. What is it?" Heath asked, curious.

Justin grinned.

* * *

A/N:I know, I know, it was short. It's a transition chapter. The next one will be longer, I promise. And it will be up tomorrow as usual...because you're all awesome in a very non-Miz-like fashion. Read and review, please!


	28. Make Connections

Matt Hardy was going to get smacked upside the head the next time she saw him, Erin decided.

His warmup, as it turned out, started with wrestling. Which wouldn't have been all that bad, except they had to do it on their knees without using their hands. And when you had as little height as Erin did, you needed every inch provided by the length of your shins.

That had been the only annoying part, though. Then they'd moved on to hands-free flips from the top ropes onto a stack of mats, followed by a few minutes with the punching bag. It was nice, for a change, to stretch with a group, especially when she couldn't quite manage to pull her leg far enough to fully stretch her hamstrings.

Afterwards, the four of them had practiced a few tandem moves, but most of their time was spent becoming familiar with each others' styles. They'd found that Erin was light enough to do Poetry in Motion off of any of them, and decided it would make an excellent finisher. After an hour of practice, they'd finally called it quits, heading back to the training room.

The rookies had to be out at the ring at the beginning of the show, and Erin moved through one of her katas as she waited. The rookies were back soon enough, trading jokes as the sounds of the matches echoed dimly through the backstage area.

"Rubdown time!" Heath exclaimed, grinning. Erin shook her head, putting in her earbuds and kicking back as she waited for a trainer to be ready.

She jumped up, surprised, as somebody tugged on her braid. John stood behind her, laughing at her expression.

"I couldn't miss your first real tag-team match," he informed her, grinning. Erin's smile was sweet and genuine, and John kissed her swiftly. "Come on. There's an empty table, and I can give as good a rubdown as any of the trainers." Erin laughed, stripping off her shirt as she lay down on the table. "How are your legs feeling?"

"I think my legs should be fine, honestly," Erin replied.

"Damn," John sighed, half-teasing. Erin laughed, her voice muffled by the pillow as she began to relax. Despite the calluses on his palms, John's hands were gentle, and Erin let out a sigh of relief.

"I won't break, you know," she remarked quietly.

"What's that?" John asked, caught by surprise.

"You can push harder," Erin explained.

"That's what she said!" Heath called. Erin craned her head upwards, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Watch it," John called warningly, but Erin just laughed, and he shook his head, kneading her back with more pressure. Erin relaxed into the table, feeling the tension drain from her body as John's hands worked her muscles expertly.

"How did I not know you were this good with your hands?" Erin murmured, and John chuckled quietly.

"I am a man of many talents," he informed her, and Erin smiled, eyes still closed. "Much though I'd be glad to massage you all day, I think everyone else is done and waiting on you." Erin rolled off the table reluctantly, shrugging back into her t-shirt. "I'll be in the greenroom, alright?" He bent down to kiss her quickly, and Erin raised her eyebrows as he stepped away. "What?"

Erin grabbed the collar of his tee, pulling herself onto her tiptoes to kiss him, one hand on his chest as his hands slid to her hips, pulling her closer.

"Oy, we've got a match in ten, lovebirds!" Wade bellowed. Erin smiled in spite of herself, and John laughed, bending to kiss her one last time as she left.

"To use a British phrase, don't get your knickers in a twist," Erin called, straightening her shirt. "We've got plenty of time."

"Thought you liked being early," Justin teased.

"I do like being early," Erin admitted, grinning. "I just like John more." She linked arms with Heath and Justin as they headed to the ring, Wade at their side. "Are the pros meeting us out there?"

"They're waiting for us at the ramp," Heath informed her. And as they made their way to the ramp, Christian, Matt, and Chris were right behind them. To her surprise, it was her entrance music that played as they stepped out on the ramp, fading as Heath grabbed his microphone.

"So as you all know, I have the honor and privilege of choosing tonight's matches," he began. "And I know we kept tonight's main event a secret, but I'd like to announce it to you now: a four-man tag-team match featuring the team of William Regal, Skip Sheffield, David Otunga, and Michael Tarver against the team of myself, Justin Gabriel, Wade Barrett, and Erin Harris." The crowd roared, demonstrating its approval of his choice, and Heath grinned. The five made their way down to the ring, and Erin released Heath's and Justin's arms to hi-five the fans along the barrier. She saluted from the center of the ring as Heath and Justin greeted the crowd from the ropes, stepping aside politely for Wade to do the same.

"Guys, can I make one request?" Erin asked. "I've got somewhat of a personal issue with David Otunga, and I'd really love the opportunity to kick his ass."

"He's all yours," Heath promised, laughing. "And it looks like they're sending him in first, so why don't you start us out?" Erin handed her t-shirt and dog tags over to the ringside attendant, flexing her fingers before taking her place in the corner.

"If we're calling dibs, can I have a shot at Skip?" Justin asked. Erin shook her head, laughing as she took a few experimental bounces.

David Otunga stepped out, flexing his muscles with an obnoxious smirk.

"Yes, we get it, you have a small penis," Justin called. Wade snorted, trying to hide a smile, and Heath cracked up.

"I knew there was a reason you three were my favorite rookies," she called over shoulder. The bell rang, and Erin charged him. He ducked out of the way, but Erin caught herself quickly, feinting left before hitting him with a spinning heel kick. When he staggered, she charged once more, hitting him with a headscissor lariat takedown, immediately hauling him up into a fireman's carry before falling back into a Samoan drop.

"The IED—very aptly named," Michael commented. "It's a very explosive move."

"Damn straight!" Heath Slater called, and Erin grinned, going for the pin. He kicked out just in time, rolling away from her. Erin grabbed for his ankle, but he made it to the corner and tagged Skip Sheffield in. He leg-dropped her, and she clutched her rib cage, curling into a ball. He attempted to kick her, but she rolled away, kicking his hamstring before scrambling away to tag in Justin.

"Are you alright?" Wade asked Erin. Erin nodded, trying to catch her breath, rubbing her ribs.

"Just bruised, I think," she replied. "Thank you, though." As they watched, Skip went for the Oklahoma stampede, missing as Justin rolled out of the way and hit him with a spinning kick to the ribs. His superkick missed Skip's chin, but his discus elbow smash connected perfectly with Skip's jaw, and Skip dropped. When he rose to his feet once more, groggy, Justin hit him with an STO. Somehow, Skip managed to get to his feet once more, dragging Justin into an overhead belly to belly suplex. Both superstars lay on the mats, stunned. "Come on, Gabriel. Get up. Get up!" Justin lifted his head wearily, and Erin turned to the crowd, raising her arms. They began to chant his name, and Erin and Heath banged on the apron, encouraging Justin. Finally, Justin managed to lunge forward, tagging in Heath just as Skip tagged his pro, William Regal.

Regal went immediately for a German suplex, but Heath hit him with a missile dropkick first. Regal was on his feet quickly, hitting Heath with a neckbreaker and following it up with a double knee lift to the kneeling rookie's jaw. Heath shook his head, dazed, but managed to get to his feet, reversing Regal's attempted Irish whip and sending the older wrestler into the corner. His diving elbow drop connected perfectly, but he was still wobbly as he stepped backwards.

"Tag me in," Wade urged. Heath did so, staggering over to his tag-team partners and slapping Wade's hand. Somehow, Regal managed to drag himself along the ropes to his own partner, tagging Michael Tarver in. He never stood a chance, though—Wade hit him with a big boot to the jaw, following it up with a powerbomb before dragging Tarver into a forward fireman's carry slam. Unfortunately, Tarver was just close enough to the corner that David Otunga could tag in once more, hitting Wade with a side suplex. Wade got to his feet quickly enough, though, Irish whipping David into the corner. With a wicked grin, he stepped backwards, tagging Erin's hand and crouching on his hands and knees in the middle of the ring.

"And it looks like Barrett and Harris are going for Poetry in Motion!" Mike called, excited. Erin nearly flew out of the corner, using Wade's back as a springboard. Rather than a dropkick or leg lariat, she turned her jump into a headscissors takedown, throwing David halfway across the ring. She tagged Heath in quickly, saluting the crowd as they cheered. Heath dragged David upright for a spinning spinebuster, diving on him for the pin.

"One, two, three—ring that bell!" the referee called. Erin grinned, vaulting over the ropes to join the rookies at the center of the ring as they raised their hands.

"You guys were awesome," Erin informed them, laughing as they let her leave the ring first. "And that was every bit as fun as I expected it to be."

"Thanks for helping us out," Heath said gratefully. "You've got your match against Randy at Summerslam next week, don't you?"

"We're actually heading out to Vegas in two days," Erin replied. "But I'm definitely going out tonight. I can pack tomorrow."

"And you're introducing me to Brie?" Justin reminded her.

"Yes, I'm introducing you to Brie," Erin laughed.

"Alright, because we're heading out in five," he informed her.

"Wait—we're not going back to the hotel first?" Erin asked, frowning. "I didn't pack a dress."

"I've got a dress you can borrow in my locker," Savannah offered, coming over. "I figured you might not have time to stop back at the hotel before we all went out tonight."

"You're the best," Erin replied, following Savannah back to the Divas locker room. Savannah held up a violet-hued bubble dress with thin black spaghetti straps, and Erin smiled.

"Thanks, Vannah," Erin said gratefully, taking the dress she offered. "Do you have an extra pair of heels?"

"Yeah, but I'm a size four, and I don't think those'll fit you," Savannah replied. "But Tiffany has some heels that would work, and she's in the bathroom. You could ask her—"

"Yes, you can borrow them," Tiffany called, coming out of the bathroom as Erin changed into Savannah's dress. "They're silver peep-toes." She tossed the shoes across the room to Erin. "Are the boys coming out?"

"I know the NXT boys are, and I think the guys from Raw are coming out too," Erin replied. "Got any eyeliner?"

"And eyeshadow, and lipgloss, and blush," Tiffany called, holding up a small bag.

"I'm good for gloss, and I really don't need the blush, but thanks," Erin laughed. She unbraided her hair quickly, combing her fingers through the loose waves left behind.

"Have I ever mentioned how jealous I am of your hair?" Tiffany remarked. "All you have to do is unbraid it, and you're all ready to go."

"Nobody ever said life was fair, but thanks for the compliment," Erin replied, smiling. "Ready to go?"

"Let's go be the best-looking girls on the floor," Savannah ordered, and they all laughed. The NXT boys were waiting for them outside, Justin pacing impatiently.

"Finally," he grumbled. "Can we please go, already?" Erin laughed, texting Brie quickly.

"They're already at the club, and she says she can't wait to meet you," she promised. "Are you driving?"

"I think we can fit everybody," Justin agreed quickly. "I know you guys probably haven't eaten yet, so we grabbed some sandwiches from catering for everybody."

"Savannah, I'm sorry, but I think he's replacing you as the best right now," Erin said promptly, taking the turkey-and-cheese sandwich Justin offered her. Savannah just laughed as they headed out to the car. The ride to the club was a quiet one, as most of them were eating, and Erin hastily swallowed the last bite of her sandwich as they pulled up to the front.

"First round's on me!" Wade called, and Savannah and Tiffany cheered as they linked arms with him.

"Took y'all long enough!" Evan called. Erin flapped her hand at him dismissively. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the group of girls clustered around the superstars, several of whom were paying far too much attention, in her opinion, to John. Without pausing to greet anyone else, she took a seat on his lap, kissing him soundly until he couldn't help but laugh, and Erin smiled as she sat back up.

"Hi," John chuckled.

"Hi," Erin said shyly.

"Definitely sexy when you're angry," John replied, grinning. Erin laughed, and he pulled her back down for another kiss.

"They're gone, by the way," Justin remarked, looking impatient as his eyes slid to Brie. Erin laughed, shaking her head.

"I'll be right back," she told John, making her way over to the cluster of Divas. Even in her heels, she had to stand on her tiptoes to whisper in Brie's ear. John watched, amused, as Brie glanced sharply over her shoulder, her eyes lingering on Justin before she turned back to Erin and half-smiled shyly. Erin laughed, grabbing Brie's hand and pulling her over. "Brie, this is Justin Gabriel. Justin, Brie Bella. Justin, Brie used to play soccer, and she can't wait for the World Cup to start. You're going back home for the World Cup, aren't you?"

"My dad's got a few connections, and he got me tickets to every South Africa and Italy game, and the final," Justin replied. Brie's eyes lit up at the mention of Italy.

"You're an Italia fan?" she asked. Erin slipped away as they began an in-depth discussion of the Italian team's chances in the World Cup.

"I'm dating an incurable matchmaker," John commented, and Erin laughed.

"A very _good_ incurable matchmaker," she reminded him. "Admit it. You're impressed."

"Alright, I'm impressed," John replied, smiling. "Want to go dance?" Erin's response was to take his hand, pulling him upright, and John laughed as he joined her on the floor.

* * *

A/N: Merry Christmas! I hope everybody's having an awesome day. As promised, yet ANOTHER new chapter, although after this, we go back to once a week. I can't push chapters out this fast on a regular basis...anyway, I figured I'd take a chance to address reviews personally, since I've got some time!

Straight-Edge Anime Wolf: Thanks so much for the constant reviews! I love getting them, and I'm glad to hear that you love the story!

bsbfan558: I think that's one of my favorite things-trying to make the characters work together! I hope you like how it works out (especially since I made Nexus disappear and turned a bunch of them into faces).

ShadowsFiction: Thank you so much! I hope I can continue to impress you :)

Elizabeth-chan: I try to base my characters in reality, for the most part, and I definitely put a bit of myself into them-I happen to play soccer, piano, sing, and I'm not too hideous to look at (I hope!). Guess I might be a Mary-Sue if Erin is! :P Although I am a little bit freaked out about your interest in the whole S&M thing...mind if you don't bring that up in reviews? It'd be much appreciated. And to my understanding, since aspirin acts on nerve endings-not altering the mind in any way, only preventing the conduction of chemical signals across the synapses (I'm a neuroscience major, in case you couldn't tell)-it isn't classified as a mind-altering drug, making it okay by straight-edge standards. If I misunderstood...I guess she's only mostly straight-edge :)

Kaycee-x John Cenaholic: Thanks! I hope you keep reading-I'll try and keep making it a good read!


	29. Be Mobile

Packing took longer than Erin had thought it would—most of her things were either in storage or the suite she shared with Beth, but a good amount of her belongings were in John's room (he seemed to find it more amusing than she did). For the first time since her broken arm, she put her bike in storage, opting to take the plane with the other superstars.

"So how long has it been since you flew?" Beth asked as they got off the plane, ignoring the flight attendant's offer of help as she crutched her way down the stairs.

"The last time I was on a plane, I was providing emergency triage care in the belly of a cargo plane that was traveling back from Afghanistan to the US," Erin said dryly. "People can complain all they want about being squashed and not having free food; this is a thousand times better." Beth laughed.

"It's all about perspective, I guess," Gail commented, brushing past them. "Look, there's our limo!"

"We got a limo?" Erin asked, astonished.

"Technically, a stretch Hummer," Beth corrected. "Our stuff's already on its way. And I'm pouring myself a glass of champagne in celebration of being in Vegas."

"This is only my second time here," Erin replied, sliding into the Hummer. "My whole squad came as soon as everybody was healed. We figured if we all survived, we clearly had the best luck in the world. We won a decent amount of money, too."

"We'll have to see if your luck carries over, then," Eve remarked. "And the guys have the limo behind us, so does anybody want to race to the hotel?"

"As long as I get to stand up and stick my head out of the sunroof," Brie called, and Nikki laughed, jumping in. They ignored Jillian, Maryse, and Team Lay-Cool as they climbed in, laughing and fighting over the best seats.

"We're in Vegas, baby!" Nikki and Brie chorused, grinning madly as they stuck their heads out of the sunroof, champagne in hand. Erin laughed, shaking her head as she mixed a Shirley Temple.

"So where are we staying?" Eve asked. "I didn't check the itinerary."

"Vince booked us a whole floor at the Palazzo," Kelly replied, excited.

"This is my first time in Vegas," Natalya said. "Is that good?"

"Sweetheart, the Palazzo is pretty much the best hotel in Vegas," Tiffany replied, reclining easily. "You don't get better than that."

"Oh, good," Natalya said happily. The ride was a short but loud one, and the Divas were still chattering eagerly as they made their way into the hotel. "So what's on the schedule for the day?"

"We've got the rest of the day to relax, but WWE Axxess starts tomorrow at 8:00 sharp," Beth informed them. "Steph wants us there at 7:30 for hair and makeup. I know we've all got breakfast with the Circle of Champions—Make-a-Wish kids, mostly—from 8:00-9:00, but I think Erin's with the guys by the main doors and the rest of us are on the opposite side of the lobby. Erin, you've got the Q&A session with the guys from 9-11, while we're split between the three signing areas and the National Guard main stage. Then we switch off—Erin and the guys split the signing and National Guard area; we answer questions. We all get a lunch break at 1:00 to meet some more Make-a-Wish kids, and then we get to wander around for a bit. Not you, Erin—sorry. You're doing some exhibition matches against local wrestlers, some show-off stuff with you and the other high flyers. You don't get to start wandering until 3:00. That's when we've all got exhibition matches, and they're supposed to be silly. Some idiot proposed a Silly String match, and we've got some one-on-one matches, too." Erin coughed , hiding a smile behind her hand.

"Silly String…heh," she commented weakly.

"Erin, did you propose the Silly String match?" Natalya asked sternly. Erin nodded, grinning sheepishly. Natalya cracked a smile, shaking her head. "Actually, that sounds kind of fun. So I won't smack you."

"Thanks, love," Erin replied gratefully. She yawned, shaking her head. "How am I exhausted at 9:00 at night?"

"Time change and adrenaline," Alicia replied promptly. "Gets all of us at some point. I'm planning to head to bed, too."

"I'm staying out for a bit," Beth said. "I'll be quiet when I come in, alright?" Erin nodded, yawning once more as she headed into the room, kicking her shoes off and falling into bed without even changing into pajamas.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, this chapter was ridiculously short. I'm sorry. I promise the next chapter will be extra long to make up for it. And look for a one-shot of Erin's state of mind going into the match coming up soon! Read and review, please!


	30. Be a Kid at Heart

A/N (part one):

I am so sorry for having taken so long to update. I know it's been absolutely ages, but I've been through a lot in the past few months-my grandmother passed away, my uncle had a sudden heart attack at age 46, and two of my teammates attempted suicide, and that's only since November. It's been a pretty tough time for me, but I'm finally back and writing again. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter (it's my first written since all the tough stuff), and I'll try to get back to once-a-week updates.

Love,

singingcagedbird

* * *

Deciding that keeping to her schedule would be best, Erin rose at 6 for a morning run that left her feeling refreshed and far more awake than she had the night before. By the time Beth was awake at 7, Erin was dressed and ready, her combat boots polished to a mirror-bright shine beneath the hem of her cargo pants and the fitted black U.S. Marines tee she wore under her motorcycle jacket. Beth chuckled drowsily, rolling out of bed and dressing quickly.

"The stadium's within walking distance—want to go?" Erin asked brightly.

"Coffee," Beth grumbled. Erin offered her a thermos promptly, itching to go. Beth shook her head, her eyes brightening and her sleepiness disappearing as she drank the hot liquid.

"Instant human, just add coffee," Erin remarked, holding the door open for her friend. Beth laughed, following her out the door.

"So you know we get to walk the red carpet on the way in, right?" she asked. Erin stopped dead in her tracks.

"Say what?" Erin asked, eyes wide. Beth chuckled.

"Relax. It's like walking down the ramp, only with more cameras," she replied. "Just kiss a few babies and hug a few kids. You'll be fine."

'More cameras' turned out to be an understatement. Hordes of fans, held back only by metal railings and security guards, reached hopeful hands towards the superstars as they made their way inside. Some, like Edge, ignored them, brushing by without so much as a backwards glance despite the ever-present flashes of cameras. Erin rolled her eyes at him, taking off her sunglasses and placing them on the head of a little boy who clutched his fatigue-wearing father's hand with excitement.

"Hi, buddy," Erin said, crouching to his level. "What's your name?"

"I Logan, and I this many years old!" the boy said proudly, holding up three fingers.

"Three years old—wow, you're a big boy!" Erin laughed, settling the sunglasses on his nose a little more firmly. "Who's your favorite wrestler?"

"John Cena!" Logan proclaimed, and Erin winked at him.

"Good choice, kiddo. You have fun, okay?" she told him, and he nodded eagerly as she moved on down the line. She made several stops to sign autographs, taking extra time to talk to thank anyone she saw in a uniform. Her hat went to a flag-waving six-year-old girl, while she handed over her motorcycle jacket to a girl who had abandoned her doll for a perch on her older brother's shoulders. Most of her autographs were for pictures, or autograph books, or random scraps of paper, but she signed one teenager's bicep (he informed her it would be made into a tattoo) and one woman's forehead (no reason was given for that one). After spending nearly an hour on the red carpet, Erin finally went inside, waving one last time before rushing to hair and makeup. Steph scolded her half-heartedly, but relented when the makeup artists informed her that she needed only a quick swipe of lip gloss and some eyeliner. Erin protested out of habit, and joined the other superstars for breakfast immediately after.

"It's Sleeping Beauty!" John Morrison called, and Erin laughed.

"I did not oversleep, thank you very much," she retorted. "I was saying hello to everyone outside."

"Christian tried to finish the eggs, but we managed to save some for you," Evan said, sliding her a plate. "We even got you strawberries and a bagel."

"And this is why you guys are awesome," Erin replied promptly, taking a seat amidst a group of kids. "Sorry I'm late, guys. I would have felt bad just ignoring all the kids out front."

"It's okay," one boy assured her. "Besides, John has funny stories." John, who had two kids on his lap and a third on his shoulder, waved, grinning.

"Don't worry. None of them were about you," he assured her. "Alright. I think I remember everybody's names, so let me try, starting with this rascal up here." He pointed to the gap-toothed boy on his shoulder, whose lack of legs didn't seem to faze him any. "This is Emilio. And on my lap I have Lindsey and Kara. They're twins."

"I'm older, though," Lindsey said immediately, and Kara made a face at her.

"But I'm taller!" Kara said proudly.

"Only because I got all the scoliosis," Lindsey retorted. Erin hid a smile as John pointed to the three boys seated to her left.

"That's John, Paul, and George," he informed her. "No, there is no one here named Ringo, as awesome as that would be." Erin grinned, waving to the three boys. "And those two girls over there, who clearly think the boys have cooties, are Rachel and Lily."

"They _do_ have cooties," Lily said stubbornly. "My big sister says so."

"Well, far be it from me to contradict your big sister," Erin laughed. "It's very nice to meet all of you."

"You're my favorite," Rachel lisped quietly. "I named my tumor Randy, and I pretend I kick its butt when you kick his." Erin smiled, touched.

"Well, I'm glad I can help put your cancer in its place," she said, reaching over to ruffle Rachel's spiky, pixie-cut hair. "You keep kicking its butt, and I'll keep kicking Randy's. Deal?"

"Deal," Rachel said decisively, and Erin laughed.

"So who wants to take pictures?" John asked.

"Me!" the kids chorused, bouncing up and down.

"Well, we just so happen to have a whole big area for photoshoots, and I've even got WWE Champion belts for everybody," John announced. "Who's ready for pictures?"

"I want one with Erin!" Kara called.

"I want one with John!" Paul announced.

"I want one with Erin AND John!" Lily added. John just shook his head, handing out WWE championship belts as Erin pulled out the camera.

"Alright, who's first?" she asked.

"Me!" George shouted. John smiled, crouching next to him, and Erin bent to their level taking several shots. Paul went next, followed by the younger John, as Erin snapped shot after shot, much to their delight. Then it was her turn to go in front of the camera, but she found that she minded pictures far less when they were about making children smile.

"Quick announcement, guys—five more minutes and then the superstars have to head out," Stephanie called, clutching her clipboard. "Time to say your goodbyes."

"Sometimes, I really hate schedules," Erin remarked, taking a seat with the kids once more. "I would totally spend all day with you guys if I could."

"We have ringside seats for tomorrow," Lily offered. Erin smiled, leaning over to hug the younger girl.

"Well, I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow, then," she replied, offering hugs to the other girls as well. The boys preferred handshakes, and Erin managed to keep a straight face even as the girls faux-coughed "cooties" behind her. She and John lingered until the last possible second, and Steph looked extremely frazzled by the time she ushered them out.

"Alright, you have ten minutes before you have to be at the Q&A session, so Erin, I was hoping you could stop over at the Superstar Ink stand? This year, we're offering your tattoos as spray-ons, and I'm sure it'd be cool for the kids to see you there," Stephanie said.

"No problem, Steph," Erin replied. "And Steph?"

"What?" Stephanie snapped.

"Deep breath, sweetheart," Erin said soothingly. Stephanie's shoulders slumped as she shook her head. "Everything's going fine. No need to pop a blood vessel. You're doing a fantastic job, and everybody knows it."

"If I get to the point where I start shrieking, I give you full permission to tackle me to shut me up," Stephanie said wryly, relaxing slightly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap. It's just the first major event Daddy's letting me run by myself, and I want it to go perfectly."

"If you start shrieking, I'll tie you up and place you in a hot tub until you relax," Erin promised.

"Sounds kinky," Hunter remarked, waggling his eyebrows as he walked by. "Can I watch?"

"Steph, do you and Hunter plan on having more kids?" Erin asked sweetly. Stephanie looked slightly confused, but nodded. "Thought so. Hunter, you may want to keep that in mind before saying another word." Hunter laughed, and Stephanie managed a small smile. Erin waved, grinning, as she headed down the corridor, nearly running into the Undertaker as she neared the tattoo booth.

"Careful where you're going, Miss Harris," he rumbled, though his eyes were kind.

"Sorry," Erin said quickly. "And it's really just Erin."

"Some childhood lessons stick, I suppose—I was always taught to address a lady as 'Miss' unless we were acquainted," he explained.

"Well, if you're headed in the direction of the tattoo booth, we could always become acquainted en route," Erin offered, smiling.

"Brains as well as beauty—a rare combination," Mark replied, offering a rare smile in return. Erin laughed, falling in step with him, though she had to take two steps for every one of his. "If we're to become acquainted, I suppose names would be a good place to start. Mark Calloway, Deadman extraordinaire."

"Erin Harris, supreme high empress of bad puns," Erin tossed back, and Mark had to smother a laugh. "No, really—you'll never meet someone with worse puns than me, and I still laugh at them every time. Especially the really nerdy ones."

"I believe I'll need to hear one for myself," Mark said finally. Erin bit her lip, thinking.

"Alright, I've got one—two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, 'I've lost my electron.' The other asks, 'Are you sure?' The first one replies, 'Yes, I'm positive,'" Erin replied. Mark snickered, and Erin smiled proudly. "Told you."

"I stand in awe of your terrible pun," Mark said dryly. "I suppose it's my turn to offer some tidbit of information, so my rejoinder is this: I play double neck bass guitar, but only when there's no one around to complain about the volume." Erin couldn't help but laugh at that.

"If you're ever bored between shows, Christian and John Morrison and I get together once a week to jam out," she offered. "I mean, I've only got an acoustic, but John's always got an extra electric. And we've yet to find a good bassist."

"I will consider your offer," Mark replied, inclining his head politely as they reached the booth.

"Hey, Erin!" Steve called. Erin looked up, surprised.

"What, you moonlight as a tattoo artist?" she joked.

"Yes, actually," Steve laughed. "Most people only want the spray-on ones, though." He pointed to the tent behind him, which was packed with waiting people. "Of course, the fact that the girls doing them are wearing Daisy Dukes and tank tops might have something to do with it." Erin raised her eyebrows, shaking her head. "I've had three people get your dragon, though. All guys." Erin grinned at that, and Steve winked at her.

"I really just came to stop by and stay hi," she explained. "Steph's freaking out, and she wanted me to come over."

"Well, you can tell her that it's going great here," Steve promised. "We're making money like crazy on it, and everybody loves it."

"I'll pass it on," Erin replied, waving to the Undertaker as she left. Stephanie was pacing nervously behind the raised platform, and Erin hurried over. "Steve says everything's going great at the tattoo booth and you're making money out the wazoo. And what did we say about deep breathing?"

"Right, right, sorry," Stephanie blurted. "Okay. You're the last one we needed, so I'm going to send you guys on, alright?"

"Okay," Erin said, shaking her head even as she smiled. John took her hand in his as they made their way out onto the platform.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the Top 10 Superstars as voted online by the WWE universe: Kelly Kelly, Eve Torres, the Big Show, Cody Rhodes, John Morrison, R-Truth, Evan Bourne, Erin Harris, Rey Mysterio, and John Cena!" Stephanie announced. She was gone from the stage by the time they had sat down, and Erin shook her head, watching her hurry from station to station, making minor adjustments and checking on the staff at each one.

"Well, Steph is probably the busiest woman in the world right now," John commented, drawing a few laughs from the audience. "I guess—maybe the easiest way would be to go down the line? Ask one question, then move to the next superstar?" The rest of them nodded, and John smiled, relieved. "I guess that means I'm on the chopping block first. Who's got a good question?" He glanced over the crowd, grinning as he pointed to a small boy, hoisted above the rest on his father's shoulders. "You look like you've got a good question, ask away, sir."

"Does you have any tattoos?" the little boy asked, lisping through a gap-toothed grin.

"I might be one of the few in the WWE without them, but no," John replied. "Actually—guys, am I the only one at the table with no tattoos? Show 'em if you've got 'em." Erin, seated next to him, rolled her eyes, rising and raising her shirt hem to show off the green dragon on her ribcage. She held up her forearm next, indicating her "Semper Fi" tattoo.

"My whole squad's got each of these somewhere—our callsign was Green Dragon, and Semper Fi is the motto for the Marines," she explained. Rey was next, and he pulled off his shirt wordlessly.

"I think that speaks for itself," he joked. "Besides, if I told you about all of them, we'd be here all day." The crowd chuckled appreciatively. "Show, how about you?"

"I've got a tiny one on my right leg, but I'm wearing jeans, and I'm sure you'd all prefer that I not pants myself," Paul drawled. He rolled up one sleeve to show off the tattoo on his left bicep, then pointed to the one on his neck. "Evan, you're tattoo-less, right?" Evan nodded.

"Eve and I are, too," Kelly added. "Cody?"

"None on me," Cody replied, shaking his head. John shook his head as they turned to him, but R-Truth showed off the tattoos on his chest and inner arm.

"Well, I guess that answers that question," John said. "Erin?"

"How about you, sir—yes, you with the Army beret, I won't even hold that against you," Erin said, laughing as she pointed to a man on the edge of the crowd.

"Is there any kind of philosophy you live by?" he asked. "Other than semper fi, of course."

"Of course," Erin replied, laughing. "Well, I certainly subscribe to the 'never back down' school of thought, and I've always liked 'find a way or make one,' but if I had to sum up my philosophy of life in one witty little phrase…hmm. How about this: I want to laugh more than I cry, to love myself or at least try, and to really live before I die." The man nodded, and Erin smiled before handing the microphone over to Evan.

"I'll take a question from the pretty girl down front," Evan said, winking at a girl in the front row. She blushed furiously before managing to ask her question.

Over the next two hours, Erin learned that Paul would take a television, sunscreen, and every season of Hawaii Five-O were he to be stranded on a deserted island, Evan preferred briefs to boxers, Eve had three dogs and four cats, Kelly couldn't stand the smell of gasoline, and Cody was in the process of designing his own superhero-like wrestling tights—among other random facts. The questions ranged from serious to silly to completely out there (Kelly received six marriage proposals, Erin had a bouquet of roses thrown at her when someone called out a proposal of their own, and Eve received four offers to become someone's girlfriend), and Erin found herself laughing almost the entire time.

"This is my favorite part of being in the WWE," John remarked afterwards, her arm tucked through his as they meandered towards catering. "Meeting the fans, I mean. It's what makes it all worthwhile."

"I didn't realize how much I actually liked people until I came to the WWE," Erin remarked wryly. John laughed. "Turkey or roast beef?"

"One of each—got to keep my strength up," John said, flexing his muscles teasingly. Erin grinned, running one hand along his bicep. "Turkey for you, right?"

"Lean protein all the way," Erin replied, grabbing their trays and taking a seat next to Natalya. "Hey, Nat." Natalya waved, mid-bite, swallowing.

"So how's your morning going?" she asked.

"Gloriously," Erin said. "So what'd you do this morning?"

"Signed lots of autographs, kissed some babies, got a few marriage proposals," Natalya said off-hand. "Eight, to be exact."

"Damn, I only got one," Erin sighed. Natalya laughed at that, and laughed even harder when she saw John's expression. "I've got the autograph table from twelve to one, and then I get to wander. I think I'll go make fun of the National Guard guys for a while. I have friends who went Guard, and one or two of them said they'd be here. And I definitely want to try the bungee trampoline thing, because it just looks fun."

"You're such a little kid at heart, you know that?" Natalya remarked, and Erin grinned.

"Well, I like it that way," John added. "It means that I can convince to do all kinds of stuff." Natalya waggled her eyebrows, and John blushed. "Not that kind of stuff! Like have pillow fights, and play pranks on people, and go bungee jumping."

"We haven't gone bungee jumping," Erin said, confused. John shrugged.

"Want to go next Thursday?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me," she agreed. Natalya watched them, amused, shaking her head.

"You guys are crazy," she informed them.

"So I've been told. Often," Erin said brightly, polishing off her sandwich. "You should try it sometime. It's fun." Natalya just laughed, and Erin grinned. "What about you?"

"Vince wants all the couples and tag teams in the WWE to do a photoshoot at some point this week, to go up on the website," Natalya explained. "You and John'll probably get a call about it soon."

"Will I have to wear a dress?" Erin asked.

"Most likely," Natalya replied. Erin made a face, and Natalya shook her head. "Sorry, love. What do you have against dresses, anyway?"

"Oh, I like wearing dresses, every now and then," Erin replied promptly. "But I'm pretty sure my legs will be black and blue after tomorrow's match with Randy."

"Good point," John agreed. "Pretty sure they'll let you wear pants if that's the case."

"Marvelous," Erin said dryly. "Hey, Ty."

"Hey, Erin," Tyson called, sliding in next to Natalya. "Ready for the shoot, babe?" Natalya nodded, and Tyson took her tray. "See you guys later!"

"We've got a half hour until we have to do autographs—want to wander around a bit?" John suggested. "I thought the obstacle course looked fun."

"Fine, but only if I get to race you," Erin replied, turning her tray over to the workers behind the counter.

"You're on," John challenged her, grinning.

* * *

A/N: See, I promised this would be longer than the last chapter! And I will, in fact, be writing a one-shot of Erin's POV pre-match. Debating writing a one-shot of the photoshoot, because it seems like it might be fun. Ideas? As ever, read and review, please!


	31. Do What You Love

"Hey, Erin!" Rey called. Erin turned, smiling. "Ready for our exhibition match?"

"Yup," Erin said cheerfully. "I'm glad it's you and me and Evan, too—I know we've all got matches tomorrow, and I trust you guys not to beat me up too much."

"Aww, I feel the same way," Evan remarked teasingly, tugging her braid as he came up behind them. "Should we have a safe word, just in case somebody pulls something, or hits a move wrong? Like…I don't know, spaghetti? That sounds like a good safe word."

"Why does it sound like you three are talking about S&M?" Hunter asked. "And why is it that every awkward-sounding conversation I come across somehow involves you, Erin?"

"Probably because your mind's in the gutter," Erin replied promptly.

"If you really want a safe word, we can do spaghetti," Rey laughed, clapping Erin on the shoulder. "Cena, you and Hunter are up after us, right?"

"Yeah," John replied, reaching over to help Erin tape up. "You mind standing in my corner during the match?"

"What, you want me to ward off the hordes of screaming fangirls?" Erin teased. John nodded solemnly, and Erin laughed as he bent down to kiss her. "Of course, love."

"Sorry I'm late—fangirls stole my sunglasses and I had to grab another pair," John Morrison called, jogging over. "Hey, Erin. Christian and I are planning on a jam session tonight outside of the hotel—give the girls something to scream over. You want in?"

"Sure," Erin laughed. "Hey—if we need a bassist, you might want to ask Mark. He plays a double neck."

"Mark?" Morrison asked, not sure to whom she was referring.

"Undertaker," Erin clarified. Morrison looked surprised, and she grinned. "He's actually sweetheart, when you talk to him."

"If you say so," Morrison said dubiously. "I think we're just going acoustic tonight, but I'll keep it in mind for whenever we play next."

"Erin what-ever-your-middle-name-is Harris, I still can't believe you were the one who gave us the Silly String match," Nikki called, walking down the hall with several other Divas behind her. "I don't think there's even a way to win. I think the point is to just use up a ridiculously large amount of Silly String."

"For what it's worth, my middle name is Brigid. And my Confirmation name is Fionna, so if you want to yell at me, that's all of it," Erin replied meekly. "And Silly String is fun, honestly!"

"It really doesn't sound all that bad," Cody commented, winking at her. "And did I hear rumors of a pillow fight?"

"Yes, you prat," Nikki laughed, smacking his shoulder. "Nat and Beth are the only ones not in on it, because they have a regular match afterwards."

"Man, I wanted to do the Silly String one, too," Beth complained.

"Want to stand in my corner?" Erin offered, only half-joking.

"Sure, why not?" Beth said agreeably.

"Come on. You can be my valet for the night," Erin laughed. Beth hooked her arm through Erin's, grinning.

"Presenting our first exhibition match of the night—a tag-team match featuring John Morrison and Erin Harris against the team of Evan Bourne and Rey Mysterio!" Stephanie announced, standing in the ring they'd set up in the middle of the open space. "Your first team, weighing in at 358 pounds, John Morrison and Erin Harris!"

Erin grinned, waving to the crowd that had gathered around the ring. Beth grinned, taking up her post just outside the ring.

"Let's go, sweetheart," she called, teasing, as she blew a kiss to Erin. Erin couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. John grinned at both of them, bouncing into the ring next to Erin. Erin hopped up onto the ropes, saluting the crowd as usual.

"And their opponents for the match, the team of Rey Mysterio and Evan Bourne," Stephanie proclaimed. "And it appears they will be escorted this evening by the lovely Aliyah Mysterio!" Aliyah, perched on her father's shoulders, waved cheerfully. "Please keep in mind that this is an exhibition match only. Don't worry—our superstars will give it a hundred percent anyway. You just might not see as many really hard-hitting, incredibly damaging moves. As usual, first to pin it wins, and usual tag-team rules still apply." Erin stepped out into the ring first, John ducking under the ropes to stand at the corner post. It was Evan who stepped in to face her, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

"Bring it on, flyboy," Erin called, beckoning to him. Evan laughed, and Erin charged him as the fight began.

Since it was an exhibition match only, neither of them went all-out in the fight—Erin held back on her kicks and punches, as did Evan. Some elements of the match were even choreographed, like their headscissors takedowns, Erin's dragonrana, and Evan's standing moonsault, ensuring that neither of them would be injured. After a few moments of showing off, Erin tagged Morrison in, while Evan tagged Rey, and the two went at it. Morrison and Rey were every bit as careful in their attacks, although, like Erin and Evan, they threw out all their flashiest moves. The match finished when Morrison tagged Erin back in and she hit a perfect headscissors takedown on Rey and he allowed her to hold him for the pin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners—John Morrison and Erin Harris!" Stephanie announced. Erin and Morrison waved to the crowd, though they raised Evan's and Rey's hands as they stood in the center of the ring. "And since our next two superstars are still taping up, I think we've got time for a question for each of these guys—right, guys?" The four nodded, and Stephanie pointed to a teenager on the corner of the crowd. "How about you?"

"I've got one for John—what's your favorite band? I need something good to listen to while I'm working out," the boy called.

"I'm a big classic rock fan—The Doors, Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead, The Beatles, the Rolling Stones," John replied, as Stephanie offered him the microphone. "Try Another Brick in the Wall, Start Me Up, or Paint It Black." The boy nodded, and Stephanie pointed to a girl just behind Beth.

"We'll take a question from you next," she said.

"Evan, how long did it take you to perfect Air Bourne?" she asked.

"About a year," Evan replied. "Shooting Star presses are restricted for a reason. Please, please, don't ever try one at home."

"Alright, two more quick questions," Stephanie said, moving them along.

"I've got one for Rey—how does Angie handle you being away so much? My husband just shipped out to Iraq, and I've got young kids," a woman called.

"First of all, pass on thanks from all of us for his service," Rey started. "Second, Angie said it really helps to focus on the kids and get involved in the community. And we talk on the phone every night—although I don't know if that's an option for you or not."

"You could try letters," Erin suggested. "During our deployment, letters were the highlights of the week, always. And most bases have really good resources for military families."

"Alright, we've got to keep moving along, but let's have one last round of applause for Erin, John, Evan, and Rey!" Stephanie called. The crowd complied loudly, and the four jumped down to hand out high fives to the crowd.

"Nice match, partner," Morrison told her, winking. "You ever thought about trying parkour?"

"I always thought it looked fun, but I've never tried it," Erin replied.

"You should stop by my gym sometime," he suggested. "It's a fun workout."

"Alright," Erin promised. "I think I'm supposed to—what was it?—ward off John's hordes of screaming fangirls. That was it. I'll see you later."

"Have fun with that," Morrison chuckled. "I'll see you later."

"Ladies and gentlemen, our next match features two of the WWE's most well-lo—well, I won't say well-loved, because they'd complain that doesn't make them sound macho. Two of the WWE's most well-known superstars: the King, Triple H, and the Champ, John Cena!"

As John and Hunter went at it, Erin couldn't help but watch the Silly String match taking place in the next ring over. She wasn't entirely sure who was winning, since she wasn't entirely sure how the match would be won at all. It did, however, look like a fantastically fun time, and all of the Divas were laughing—_really_ laughing, practically to the point of hysterics—as the Silly String flew all around the ring. Some of it even ended up on the crowd around the ring, much to their amusement.

Erin turned back to John's fight in time to see him hit an Attitude Adjustment on Hunter. Only someone watching closely, like Erin, would have noticed that John held back, not dropping Hunter until he was only a foot or so off the mats.

The last match of the afternoon was Natalya's and Beth's, and Erin grinned as she watched her friends take the ring. Both women, though they had not been part of the Silly String match, had silly string in their hair from standing close enough to the ring. Their match featured the wrestling the Divas had once been famous for—grappling, hand-to-hand combat,_ real_ wrestling. Erin was beaming with pride at the sight of the two of them, cheering as loudly for Beth as for Natalya when she hit the Nattie by Nature.

It was well into the afternoon by the time they were all able to go home, though plenty of other stars were arriving to relieve them as the festivities went on. Erin, sticking stubbornly to her schedule, hit the gym for a kata, stopping by the hotel just long enough to change into her favorite sundress before dinner. Just as it always did, the workout left her far more settled, and it was with a much mellower attitude that she returned to the hotel for dinner with John.

"So I hear you've got a jam session planned for tonight—mind if I come along as a groupie?" he asked, feeding her a bite of ice cream.

"It'd be nice to have someone who's not a barely-dressed 20-something who wants nothing more than to sleep with John or Christian," Erin said dryly. "Oh, goodness. Did I say that out loud?" John chuckled, shaking his head.

"I heard that!" Christian called. "And I'll be the first to admit they get kind of annoying after a while. Especially since I've got Tiffany."

"That's sweet," Erin remarked, grinning up at him. "I take it we're heading outside?"

"As soon as Morrison gets his lazy butt down here, yes," Christian replied. Erin laughed.

"I have to grab my guitar, actually," she reminded him. "I'll be down in a minute, alright?" She trotted up the stairs to the room she shared with Beth, grabbing her case from the closet and bouncing back downstairs eagerly. Morrison had finally arrived, and was tuning his guitar out front.

"I grabbed chairs for us," Christian told her, taking a seat on one himself. Already, a small crowd had started to gather in front of them. Erin took a seat herself, checking her strings quickly.

"I'm ready to play whenever you guys are," she told them, fingerstyling idly.

"Any requests?" Morrison called, eliciting a wave of shrieks and squeals from the girls in front of them.

"Jason Mraz!" someone called. Christian grinned, pulling out his bongos.

"I'm Yours?" Morrison suggested.

"I'll take the harmony," Erin agreed cheerfully. "Want me to do the intro, or do you want the honors?"

"It's all yours," Christian promised, and Erin grinned as she strummed the opening notes. John began to sing, his voice husky and low. Erin joined in halfway through the first verse, her voice clear and sweet in contrast. Christian jammed away on the drums, thoroughly enjoying himself as he played. Morrison wandered out of his chair as they continued to play, winking at one of the 20-somethings Erin complained about. Erin just chuckled, crouching low to sing to little girl who watched her, wide-eyed, from her perch on her father's knee. She clutched an ice cream cone in one hand, and Erin smiled at her as she sang. As they finished, Erin and Morrison transitioned into Incubus' "Drive," passing the vocals off to Christian.

"If you guys know these, feel free to sing along," Erin called, smiling. John flipped open his cell phone, raising it in the air and swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Erin laughed, shaking her head as she continued to play. The song was one of her favorites to play, with a simple guitar line that was every bit as fun as it was easy. She noted, with some amusement, that nearly half the girls looked ready to faint with delight as Christian winked at them when he finished.

"Hey, Erin, why don't you take a request?" he suggested.

"Alright—what do y'all want to hear?" Erin asked, stretching her spine. "Tell you what—I'll take a request from the girl in that cute brown sundress, because I totally need to find out where you got that from."

"Charlotte Russe," the girl replied, laughing. "And could you guys play "Hey Ya" by Obadiah Parker?"

"John, I think you and Erin are going to have to take this one," Christian said, shaking his head. "I don't know that one."

"Yeah, we got this," Morrison promised. "Come on, Mighty Mouse."

"Mighty Mouse?" Erin asked, raising her eyebrows.

"You're tiny and strong. Ergo, Mighty Mouse," Morrison replied, shrugging.

"Yeah, but 'mouse' makes me sound cute and adorable, and I don't do cute and adorable," Erin grumbled.

"Suck it up," Morrison said unrepentantly. "Besides, anyone who's ever seen you wrestle knows "cute and adorable" is not a wise thing to call you if we want to live. Or at least keep—ahem—certain important portions of our anatomy." John snickered, and Erin grinned.

"Fair enough," she agreed. "Alright. Let's play some music." Erin and John started on the introduction, and Erin took the melody.

There was something in her eyes, John decided. Something in her expression told him that this song meant a little something more to her than she was letting on. He made a note to ask her about it later, putting it in the back of his mind as the song went on.

Christian glanced over at John as Morrison and Erin continued to sing. He smirked slightly at the dazed, dreamy look John had on his face. Erin, when she was done, looked at John in just the same way, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"How 'bout we have a guest singer on this next one?" Christian asked. "Specifically, Mr. Cena over there." John chuckled, shaking his head, but the crowd in front of them chanted his name until he finally stepped forward. He leaned over to whisper something to Morrison, who laughed.

"Erin, we got this one," he informed her. Erin put down her guitar, bemused, not recognizing the opening notes of the song. In fact, it wasn't until the chorus—when John sang that she was his "brown-eyed girl"—that she laughed, finally recognizing it. She blushed as he continued to sing to her, but John just smiled and winked at her. He leaned over to kiss her as soon as he was done, and the crowd whistled and cheered.

"That was fun," Morrison remarked cheerfully.

"Come on, partner, how did I not get in on this sooner?" a familiar voice bellowed.

"Because you didn't ask, you idiot," Morrison called back, shaking his head at his tag-team partner. "You want to sing something? Or rap something?"

"Can any of you play "Billionaire"? The one by Travie McCoy," R-Truth asked. Erin's hand shot up, and Christian laughed.

"Apparently, G.I. Jane can," he said dryly. "I have no idea what song that is."

"Don't worry, guys, I got this," Erin said proudly. "Honestly, this is one of maybe three non-rock songs I can play on guitar."

"Aww, you sound so excited," Christian teased.

"I _am_ excited," Erin said defensively, though she was grinning. "Alright. Here goes my first-ever non-rock guitar attempt." To no one's surprise, Erin was grinning as she sang, and R-Truth was laughing so hard at her amusement that he barely managed to come in on his verses.

The cheers that greeted them as they finished were enough to make people poke their heads out of the apartment windows that lined the street. Erin directed all the applause to R-Truth, who bowed modestly.

"Alright, I really want to go to bed soon," Morrison remarked. "I think we've got time for maybe one more song."

"So what should we finish with?" Christian asked the crowd.

"Swing Life Away!" someone shouted.

"American Pie!" someone else called.

"Closing Time?" John asked.

"Good Riddance by Green Day," Tiffany suggested.

"I knew there was a reason I was dating you," Christian called back, and Tiffany giggled. "What do you think, guys? Good Riddance?"

"Sounds good to me," Erin shrugged. "John? You game?" Morrison nodded, and Erin grinned. "Alright, ladies and gents, it's our last song of the night. Here goes." This time, Erin let Christian and Morrison take the lead on vocals, harmonizing on the choruses but content to just play guitar and smile as the crowd swayed back and forth to the music.

"Alright, guys, we really do hope you had the time of your life," Morrison called. "Or at least that you do tomorrow. And I don't know about these guys, but I'm hitting the sack. See you guys tomorrow!"

John took her guitar for her as she yawned, and the crowd slowly began to disperse, though several stayed back, begging for autographs.

"Want to sleep in my room tonight, or do you want your own?" he asked quietly, wrapping his free arm around her waist.

"I think I'll take my room tonight, if you don't mind," Erin said, almost apologetically. "I want to be up early tomorrow for my run and to double-check that I packed everything."

"Alright," John chuckled. "I can guarantee right now that you did, though."

"I know," Erin said sheepishly. "I just like to make sure."

"Of course you do, love," John replied, bending down to kiss her as they reached her room. "Lunch tomorrow? I'll get the sandwiches."

"I'll bring the Starbucks," Erin promised, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him once more. "Goodnight, love."

"Sweet dreams, beautiful," John said, holding open the door for her. Erin smiled over her shoulder at him before tucking her guitar away in its case. She was so tired, she didn't even remember falling asleep.

* * *

A/N: Another long-ish chapter! (I spoil you). We'll probably have one more chapter of fun stuff, then I'll start the matches. The Erin vs. Randy will be its own chapter, but I'll probably put some others in the same chapters, so we'll see. I'm almost done with Erin's POV one-shot about her match, which will go up a day or two before that chapter gets posted. Read and Review, please!

A/N Part 2: I've seriously had this chapter uploaded for about two and a half weeks now, but the site wasn't letting me add any new chapters. But here it (finally) is!


	32. Open Up to the World

Erin rose bright and early as usual, settling the butterflies in her stomach with an extra-long run. For once, Beth was awake when she returned, setting out granola bars and trail mix to take with them.

"I figured you'd want to get to the press conference early, and I've got the photoshoot with Ted," Beth explained. "Go grab a shower. I'll be ready to go whenever you are."

"Thanks, Beth," Erin said gratefully, grabbing a summery tangerine-hued sundress from the closet before ducking into the bathroom. She was out again moments later, her still-wet hair in its usual braid. "You're all packed, right?"

"Yes, mother," Beth laughed, holding up her bag. "I'd ask you the same question, but I already know the answer." Erin grinned, tugging her already-packed bag from under the bed and checking it one last time. "Alright, Beth. Showtime."

"I'm guessing if you're wearing a dress, we're not riding the motorcycle?" Beth asked. Erin's grin turned wicked as she grabbed her jacket.

"Now what would ever make you think that?" she said by way of reply, tossing Beth a helmet. "John says it's sexy when I ride my motorcycle in a dress. So there."

"Far be it from me to contradict your boyfriend," Beth chuckled, following Erin to the garage. The engine roared to life as they peeled out, Beth clutching Erin's waist tightly but laughing giddily nonetheless. The crowd outside of the stadium recognized them by Erin's motorcycle, and security had to surround them to get them into the garage. Erin just laughed, hanging up her helmet and fixing her braid, waiting patiently for Beth before heading inside. Stephanie was pacing anxiously inside, and Erin waved Beth on quickly.

"Don't worry, Steph, I'm here and I'm ready," Erin said. Stephanie whirled, dropping her clipboard in surprise. Erin picked it up. "And breathe. If you pass out before the press conference, I won't have anyone to coach me."

"Once this is over, I'm sleeping for a week," Stephanie muttered, taking her clipboard back. "Rachel, can you take Erin's bag to her room?" Her assistant nodded quickly, taking Erin's bag. "Okay. General rules: avoid controversy, don't insult people, and if they ask a question that's too personal, just say no comment and move on to the next one. Got it?"

"You bet, boss," Erin replied, following Stephanie onto the platform. The entire room was packed with reporters, and Erin waved cheerfully as she sat down.

"I have to say, this is my first press conference, so please be gentle," Erin said, smiling wryly. There were a few chuckles from the reporters, and she settled herself back in her chair. "I'll start taking questions—you first." She pointed to a reporter in the front row.

"Miss Harris, how has your time in the Marines prepared you for your career in the WWE?" she asked.

"First of all, it's just Erin," Erin began, still smiling. "Secondly, being a part of something so much bigger than yourself—something like the Marines—would really prepare you for anything. You learn strength, discipline, character—everything you could ever need to succeed, as cliché as it sounds. But being in the Marines also taught me how to handle pain without flinching, how to fight back from anything, and how to never back down, and I think all three of those are essential to succeeding in the WWE."

"Erin, how do you prepare for the biggest fight of your career to date?" someone asked. Erin smiled.

"Like every superstar, I've got my match-day superstitions—I never wear matching socks, I have a particular playlist that I listen to, I always eat vanilla yogurt with granola, dates, and raisins exactly two hours before the match, and I go through the same kata in the afternoon," she explained. "I always wash and iron my outfit the night before, and I always polish my boots in the morning, but that's left over from the Marines more than it is a superstition. If you're asking for my exact daily routine, it's the same as any other day: get up at 6, go for a run, shower, play guitar, fix up my outfit, eat lunch with the Divas, do a kata and some weightlifting, pack up, eat dinner with John and the other superstars, and come to the stadium."

"What's on your playlist?" someone else called. Erin laughed.

"My favorite nine songs and three inspirational speeches," she replied. "I start with the speech from Gridiron Gang, then the halftime speech from Any Given Sunday, then the pre-game speech from Miracle. And then I listen to The Who's Won't Be Fooled Again, Livin' on the Edge by Aerosmith, Van Halen's Unchained, War Machine by Kiss, Remember the Name by Fort Minor, the Numb/Encore remix by Linkin Park and Jay-Z, AC/DC's Thunderstruck, The Strength to Go On by Rise Against, and Pantera's Five Minutes Alone."

"Can you comment on the rumors that you're pregnant?" someone called. Erin cracked up, shaking her head.

"Thank you for making my day right there. I hadn't heard that one before," she said finally, still chuckling. "No, I'm not pregnant." She held up her left hand, showing the plain silver band on her ring finger. "I'm proud to say that I'm still a virgin, and I'm saving myself until marriage."

"And your relationship with John Cena—any comments on that?" someone else asked.

"He's my boyfriend?" Erin offered, slightly confused. "I'm sorry, I really don't know what kind of answer you're looking for. We're certainly very happy together, if that's what you want."

"Erin, you've got about five more minutes, so enough time for one question," Steph said quietly.

"I'll take one last question, then," Erin agreed. "How about you, all the way in the back?"

"I'll go for one more personal question—what is the nature of your relationship with your father?" the reporter asked. Erin's face tightened slightly, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the table.

"My father and I are estranged, and have not spoken since I joined the military," she replied evenly.

"Is that because of the abuse you underwent at his hands?" the reporter pressed on. Steph rose angrily, gesturing to security.

"I want—" she started. Erin placed a restraining hand on her arm, shaking her head.

"I was a victim of domestic, physical abuse as a child, yes," she stated. "But as you can see, my experience as such does not and will not define me." Steph nodded slowly, impressed with Erin's calm, and sat back down. "I believe that concludes the conference, and I'm sure I will see you all later—and I intend to do so as your new World Heavyweight Champion." She saluted proudly before leaving the stand, head held high.

"I hate reporters," Stephanie grumbled. "I think the only people I hate more than reporters are lawyers."

"Eh, they have a job to do, that's all," Erin shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."

"So do you have any other plans for the rest of the day?" Stephanie asked.

"I went for my run already, and I'm planning just to eat a nice, quiet lunch by myself," Erin replied. "Although you're welcome to join me."

"I would, but I have to supervise everything at the stadium," Stephanie said apologetically. "Be here by six o'clock, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Erin agreed, laughing. "I think John and I are doing dinner around 4:30, and we'll come over together afterwards. Please tell me I don't have to go to hair and makeup beforehand, though, Steph."

"You're a superstar, not a Diva," Stephanie said absently. "You're here to wrestle, not to look pretty."

"I know that," Erin replied, grinning. "I just wanted to make sure you remembered."

"You remind me every day, sweetheart," Stephanie teased, whacking her arm with the clipboard. "And you know you've got free range of backstage up until the beginning of the commercials before your match. Then, unless you are standing right in front of me in the greenroom, I will have a panic attack because you're the face in my first-ever run-by-me SummerSlam main event. And when the panic attack is over, I will hunt you down, and you _will_ feel the full force of my wrath. Understand?"

"Steph, you know I would never cause you a panic attack," Erin said calmly, hiding her smile with effort as she placed both hands on Stephanie's shoulders. "I'll be there, alright? And you know that SummerSlam has been going flawlessly. Everybody loves it, fans and wrestlers alike. Got it?" Stephanie nodded, managing a small smile. "Alright. I'm off to lunch. Want me to bring you back coffee?"

"If you get it with two shots of expresso, I will love you forever. Most likely in a hyperactive fashion," Stephanie replied, grinning wryly.

"You got it, boss," Erin laughed, shaking her head. "I look forward to your impression of Hammie the Squirrel." Stephanie snorted, and Erin waved as she left.

Thankfully, Vegas had a Starbucks on almost every corner, and Erin was loaded up with an iced green tea, John's dark roast, and Steph's double-shot caramel latte. She nearly spilled all of them as a crowd of fans caught sight of her, but managed to get out after signing what felt like several hundred autographs.

By the time she got back, Stephanie was nowhere near where Erin had left her. A cameraman pointed her in the direction of the boardroom, where three interns pointed her towards the soundboard. Steve directed her to Jericho's agent, who pointed her towards a group of camera men, who in turn sent her to the makeup artists, who then sent her to four stagehands. Erin finally found her when the stagehands sent her to the camera control room.

"I feel like Jeffy from Family Circus, when he goes on those dotted-line wandering walks," Erin complained, handing over the latte. "Eat, drink, and be merry. Or just the drink part."

"You're my favorite," Stephanie said promptly. Erin just smiled, heading towards catering. John was waiting for her in the corner, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Sorry, I had to track Steph down," she apologized hastily, handing over his coffee. "She's a hard woman to find."

"That's okay," John laughed, sliding over her sandwich. "Here. Turkey and cheese, just like you asked. How are you feeling?"

"Frazzled," Erin replied, her voice muffled as she took a giant bite of her sandwich. She glanced up mid-bite, embarrassed, to see that John was watching her, amusement all over his face. She blushed, putting it down and swallowing hard.

"Hungry?" he asked, amused. Erin nodded, abashed, and John chuckled. "And I wasn't asking about the Starbucks run, love. How are you doing?" Erin paused before answering, biting her lip.

"I'm—anxious," she said finally. "But ready. Definitely ready. I just want to get to my match already."

"Patience is not your virtue, is it?" John chuckled. Erin shook her head wryly.

"How about you?" she asked. "You and Hunter are captaining Team Raw, right?"

"Yeah, we're thinking it should be a good match," John agreed. "Not much of a grudge match, though. I think yours might be the most personal one out there."

"R-Truth and Otunga, maybe," Erin mused. "And Rey and Undertaker—they've got a score to settle with Punk."

"Yeah, but yours goes back way longer," John replied. "And theirs all started in the WWE. Yours started with a friendship."

"Don't remind me," Erin grumbled, taking a sip of her green tea. She grimaced, remembering, and shook her head to clear it.

"So where do you want to watch the matches from?" John asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Can we watch from that really comfy chair in your locker room?" Erin asked, polishing off her sandwich. "You know, the really squishy one?"

"Sure," John laughed. "Let's head back. I think Steph goes out to start it in five."

"It's one o'clock already?" Erin asked, surprised. John nodded, and Erin shrugged, tossing their trash in the bin as they left. John's locker room was just down the hall, and Erin bounced inside, waiting for John to sit before curling up in his lap. John laughed quietly, flicking the TV on. The camera focused in on the ring, where Matt Striker and Stephanie stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the incredibly hard-working woman who put this year's SummerSlam—Stephanie McMahon!" Matt Striker announced. There were scattered boos throughout the crowd, but the applause predominated and Stephanie smiled shyly. Her one-shouldered black dress was all business, but she looked far gentler than usual with her hair loosely curled and a pair of delicate black heels completing her look. Her ever-present clipboard was clutched tight to her chest, but she managed a small wave before taking the microphone.

"Hi, everyone," she said, biting her lip nervously. "Welcome to my first-ever SummerSlam!" This time, the cheers were far louder. "You'll probably notice a theme running through the matches today: they're all grudge matches. Every Superstar wrestling today has a score to settle with his—or her—opponent, and these will easily be some of the most exciting, most devastating matches you've ever seen. I'm not going to stand here and bore you by going on and on, but it is my honor and privilege to introduce the first match of the night: NXT Rookie David Otunga against his mentor, R-Truth!" Stephanie grinned as the crowd roared its approval, and she turned to the ramp.

"Introducing first, the man they call The A-List," Stephanie proclaimed. "From Hollywood, California, weighing in at 240 pounds—NXT Rookie David Otunga!"

David swaggered out of the greenroom, winking at Erin as he passed. She grimaced, slipping her hand into John's for comfort. The crowd booed him loudly, the noise echoing over the entire stadium. David ignored them, tugging off his hood as he made his way into the ring.

"And his NXT Pro, from Charlotte, North Carolina, weighing in at 235 pounds. He's the man they say never looks down, because all he wants to know is what's up—R-Truth!" Stephanie announced. The crowd's response was significantly louder and more positive as R-Truth grabbed his microphone, bringing the crowd to their feet.

"Yo, Las Vegas, Entertainment Capitol of the World!" R-Truth bellowed. The crowd roared, and he grinned. "What's up?" Stephanie couldn't help but laugh, and she joined the crowd in cheering.

"Gentlemen, let's have a good, clean match," Stephanie reminded them, reaching out to shake each of their hands. R-Truth politely held the bottom rope down for her, offering his hand as she ducked out. She was backstage within seconds, barking out orders once more, and Erin laughed quietly. John settled her more firmly on his lap, and Erin leaned back against him, watching as the match began.

David was the first to attack, taking a swing at R-Truth. He ducked it easily, dropkicking his rookie. As soon as David was on his feet again, R-Truth powerslammed him into the mats. David lay on the mats, woozy, and R-Truth slapped him across the top of his head several times before backing away. David got up and charged him immediately, but R-Truth dropped into a split to avoid it. Undeterred, David charged him once more, and R-Truth vaulted over his rookie, sending him into the corner and following it up with a mocking back-handspring and beckoning to the younger man. David feinted left, catching his pro's arm as he passed. He managed to pull R-Truth into an abdominal stretch, but R-Truth was out of it within moments, tossing his rookie over one hip and dropping onto him for the pin. David just managed to kick out, and R-Truth let him get to his feet before hitting him with a Lie Detector, following it up with a Truth or Consequences. After that, David didn't get up, and R-Truth held him for the three-count.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this match has taken less than five minutes, and R-Truth has defeated his rookie in resounding fashion!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "If there were any doubts as to R-Truth's fitness, they are now entirely gone. This match is among the most decisive we've seen in years!" In the ring, the referee raised R-Truth's hand high, and David slunked out of the ring reluctantly. "And we'll be right back to the WWE SummerSlam Pay-Per-View in just a moment." They cut to commercial as R-Truth made his way out of the ring, offering hi-five after hi-five to the fans.

"Congrats, man," John called as R-Truth joined them backstage. "I gotta say, that was pretty satisfying."

"Yeah, you're telling me," R-Truth said wryly, clasping John's hand. "Good luck in your match later—both of you. I promised Eve I'd watch the rest of the show with her." Erin leaned back, craning her neck to look back and wave to him as he left.

"So who's up next again?" Erin asked lazily, content in John's arms.

"It's the three-way tag team match," John reminded her. "Then Miz and Big Show, then my match, so I have to go to the greenroom after this one." Erin pouted, wriggling herself into a more comfortable position in his lap.

"So you're taking away my pillow?" she asked him. John laughed.

"Sorry," he said unrepentantly, shrugging. "You need to warm up a little before your match, though, don't you?"

"Yes," Erin grumbled, and John chuckled once more. "Fine. But I don't have to be happy about it."

"When are you planning to start your prematch rituals?" John asked, curious.

"As soon as you leave, actually," Erin admitted, and John hid a smile.

"So you weren't actually annoyed?" he confirmed.

"Nope," Erin replied promptly. "I just wanted to bust your chops." John laughed, leaning down to kiss her as the show came back from commercial break.

* * *

A/N: \This chapter was originally even longer, but I had to split it in two. So you'll see even more matches in the next chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed this one, because I really enjoyed it too (writing it AND reading it). As ever, read and review!


	33. Be Prepared

It was Matt Striker who came down to introduce the three tag teams, and he waited until the stadium was silent before speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have been informed that Primo and Carlito were attacked backstage and will be unable to compete in this match," Matt Striker announced. "As a result, this match will feature the team of Evan Bourne and Yoshi Tatsu against the team of William Regal and Vladimir Koslov." Boos rose from the shocked crowd, and Erin shook her head sorrowfully.

"Three guesses as to who did the attacking," John rumbled, and Erin nodded in agreement.

"Presenting first, the team of William Regal and Vladimir Koslov!" Matt announced. Despite the boos that echoed throughout the stadium, both men walked with incredible arrogance as they entered the ring. "And their challengers, escorted by the lovely Gail Kim—the team of Evan Bourne and Yoshi Tatsu."

"So are you going to be able to watch my match, or are you going to be getting ready?" John asked.  
"I'll make sure I'm by a TV," Erin promised, laughing.

"And here's Evan Bourne, striking quickly with an enzuigiri to the charging William Regal's head. Regal staggered slightly, but countered with a barrage of punches. Evan dodged and wove, avoiding them deftly. A dropkick to Regal's chest left him reeling in the center of the ring, and Evan hopped onto the top rope, hitting Regal with a diving double knee drop. Regal fell heavily, and Evan went for the pin. Kicking out easily, Regal was on his feet almost immediately, lifting Evan up in a German suplex and throwing him to the mats. Evan arched his back away from the impact, and Regal followed it up with a neckbreaker that nearly kept Evan down as he went for the pin. Evan kicked out at the last second, managing to get to his feet and off the mats, driving both knees into Regal's jaw. Regal was left staggering long enough that Evan managed to drag himself back to his corner, tagging Yoshi in.

Yoshi managed to catch Regal before he could tag Koslov, and nailed the already-weary Englishman with a jumping spinning heel kick. Regal fell into the corner and Yoshi hit him with a double knee strike. Erin joined the crowd in cheering as he followed it up with a rolling snapmare and a shoot kick. Regal somehow managed to get back to his feet, ducking under Yoshi's discus elbow smash attempt and hauling Yoshi into a half nelson suplex. Yoshi was left groggy enough that Regal could drag himself to his corner, tagging Koslov in.

Without a second's pause, Koslov hit Yoshi with a scoop powerslam. Yoshi writhed in pain, and Koslov sneered. He made sure that Yoshi would stay down with a fallaway slam and an overhead suplex, and Erin winced backstage.

"Come on, Yoshi," she muttered under her breath, crossing her fingers. Somehow, Yoshi kicked out of the pin attempt, and drove his knee into Koslov's side. Koslov rolled away as Yoshi dragged himself back to his feet, managing to land a back kick on Koslov's jaw as he charged. The crowd roared with delight as Yoshi lifted Koslov into a cradle slam. He went for the pin, and Regal ducked into the ring to shove him off. Evan vaulted over the top rope, catching Regal in a headscissors takedown and throwing him out of the ring. Regal fell onto the announcer's table, and Michael and Jerry jumped out of the way. Evan launched himself from the top rope, driving Regal through the announcer's table with an Air Bourne to thunderous cheers. Regal groaned, trapped beneath the table's remnants. Evan looked equally battered, but he clung to the barrier with all his strength as he tried to pull himself upright. Back in the ring, Yoshi nailed Koslov with a roundhouse kick to the temple. Koslov dropped like a stone, and Yoshi covered him for the pin, holding him down for the three-count.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners—the team of Evan Bourne and Yoshi Tatsu!" Jerry announced. Ringside, Gail hurried out of her chair, levering one of Evan's arms over her shoulders and helping him into the ring so that the referee could raise his hand along with Yoshi's. Evan kept Gail at his side, and she winked up at him.

"You were great," she whispered, standing on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. Evan looked down at her, smiling. Both of them turned, startled, as Yoshi crumpled to the ground. Behind them, Jack Swagger stood, smirking smugly, a length of pipe in his hand. Evan stepped between Jack and Gail as the All-American American drew back. The whole stadium could hear the devastating crack as the pipe connected with Evan's ribs, sending him to his knees. Jack grabbed a microphone as Gail tried to back away from him.

"You should be escorting a real man, not some half-boy who can't even win a title," he informed her. He looked her up and down, and Gail shuddered. "And you're more than welcome to come back to my locker room with me." Gail shook her head, still backing away, but finding herself trapped in the corner. Jack grabbed her arm. "In fact, I insist." Gail shook her head again, fear written on her face.

"Didn't you hear the lady?" Evan managed, making his way back to his feet, still clutching his ribs. "She said no." With that, he drove a superkick into Jack's jaw, dropping him instantly. Gail looked up at Evan—though there wasn't all that much a height difference between them—and smiled hesitantly. Evan smiled back, though he winced in pain, and Gail ducked under his arm quickly, helping him as they walked back up the ramp.

Backstage, Erin smiled at the tender look that passed between them. Checking the time, she rolled out of the chair, hauling John to his feet with a groan.

"What are you doing for a warmup, love?" she asked, rolling out her neck.

"Listening to loud music and whacking away at a punching bag," John said promptly. Erin laughed.

"Sounds like a plan to me," she replied, kissing him swiftly. "Good luck. Go get 'em, champ."

"I'll be back before your match," John promised. "And I'll be sure to deal out a few punches just for you." Erin grinned, kissing him once more before ducking into the hallway. She headed for the trainers' room, waving wordlessly to Abe and Kat as she headed for the bike to get warmed up. The trainers left her alone, busy making preparations of their own, but Erin's head popped up as she heard her name with five minutes or so left in her biking trip.

"Guys, I found her!" Wade bellowed, leaning around the doorframe. His voice returned to normal volume as he added, "Hey, Erin."

"Hi, Wade," Erin laughed, continuing to pedal. "How are you guys liking your first SummerSlam?"

"How are you liking yours?" Heath threw back.

"Touché," Erin replied, grinning wryly. "I'm loving it so far."

"Good to hear," Justin said, joining them. He held out a bouquet of wildflowers, smiling sheepishly. "They're a good-luck gift from all of us."

"Oh, you guys," Erin said, touched. "You shouldn't have!"

"Yes, we should have, so we did," Heath informed her. "Besides, we hate Randy. How could we not cheer for you?" Erin chuckled at that, shrugging in agreement with their logic. She hopped off the bike, grabbing a towel. "Who won the Miz-Big Show match?"

"Big Show, of course," Wade replied, and Erin nodded, unsurprised. "He had a really nice reverse powerbomb at one point, and just dominated the whole match. It was fun to watch."

"Watching Mike get his butt kicked is always fun," Erin agreed. "I need to stretch out, but I really want to watch the Battle Royal. Want to head down to the greenroom with me?"

"Your wish is our command," Justin said, bowing ostentatiously. Erin giggled, smacking his arm as she ducked out the door. "I think Rey and his family are back there right now, actually."

"Oh, good—I wanted to say hi to Aliyah," Erin said cheerfully.

"That was one of my favorite moments on Smackdown," Heath reminisced. "When you and Rey beat up on the Straight Edge Society, I mean. Fun times."

"I don't like bullies," Erin replied simply, and they walked the rest of the hallway in silence.

"Erin!" Aliyah squealed, bouncing out of the greenroom and grabbing Erin's legs. Erin laughed, scooping the little girl up and tossing her overhead. "Hi, other wrestlers." Behind her, Rey snickered at the looks on Heath's, Wade's, and Justin's faces.

"Guys, this is Aliyah, Rey's daughter," Erin introduced. "And Aliyah, these are some of my friends—Heath, Wade, and Justin."

"Hey there, little lady," Justin said, and Aliyah blushed, wriggling out of Erin's grip and rejoining her father.

"Hi, Rey," Erin said, turning to him. "Ready for your match later?"

"After a little more time with these guys, you bet," Rey replied, indicating his family. "You remember Dominic and Angie, right?"

"Of course," Erin agreed. "Although I think Dom may have grown six inches since the last time I saw him."

"It's definitely possible," Dom informed her, grinning. "I think the Battle Royal match is starting. You going to watch?"

"Absolutely," Erin replied promptly, plopping herself down in front of the couch and beginning to stretch, her eyes glued to the screen. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"She just wants to see her _boyfriend_," Aliyah stage-whispered, winking at Erin.

"Well, there is that," Erin admitted, grinning. "You've got a very observant daughter, Rey."

"Don't I know it," Rey said wryly. "Here we go—we're back from commercial."

"Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Team Smackdown's captain, the Big Red Monster, Kane!" Matt Striker announced. Team Smackdown filed down to the ring, standing there imposingly.

"And Team Smackdown includes Kofi Kingston, Jack Swagger, Christian, Cody Rhodes, JTG, Shad Gaspar, Matt Hardy, Intercontinental Champion Drew McIntyre, and Chris Masters," Jerry ticked off. "Michael, this is really a pretty imposing team. Team Raw will be hard-pressed to put up as impressive a roster."

"I'm not so sure about that, Jerry," Michael cautioned. "Let's have a look."

"Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Team Raw's co-captains, the Game and the Champ: Triple H and John Cena!" Matt went on. Now, it was Team Raw's turn to march down, looking every bit as intimidating.

"After all, Jerry, Raw has the current tag team champions, the Hart Dynasty, Edge, John Morrison, MVP, Mark Henry, and Ted DiBiase," Michael reminded his co-announcer. "This is going to be a good match, I think. I really just wish we could see these as one-on-one matches, but a battle royal will definitely be entertaining as well."

The bell rang, and the two teams went straight to it. Erin was unsurprised by most of the matchups—Christian went after Edge, Hunter went straight to Kane, Ted stepped up against Cody, MVP faced off against Kofi, Matt Hardy and Tyson Kidd squared off, and John went straight for Jack Swagger. Morrison and Truth looked ready to take on the former tag team of JTG and Shad Gaspar, and David and Mark Henry stepped up to Drew and Chris. But to everyone's surprise, JTG and Shad turned on each other, ignoring the fray around them and going at each other full-force. Both went over the top rope, and Morrison and R-Truth turned to help the rest of Team Raw.

Tyson went over the top rope next, as Kane managed to shake Hunter long enough to help Matt throw him out. Morrison sacrificed himself in a suicide dive as his crossbody hit Swagger's shoulders, sending them both out of the ring. Then it was Christian's turn to go as Edge's spear left him too stunned to fight back.

R-Truth managed to hold his own without his tag-team partner, and it took Drew and Chris to get him out of the fight. Mark and David waited until the two men had tossed him over the ropes, then ambushed them from behind, sending them out of the ring. Matt took out David with a surprise Twist of Fate, and Edge held Mark off as Matt pushed the Baby Bulldog over the top rope. The two of them turned on Mark, wearing him down until they could throw him from the ring.

John and Hunter were both on the receiving end of a chokeslam from Kane, who tossed Edge over the ropes while waiting for them to get up. MVP avoided Kofi's Trouble in Paradise, dropping and flipping him neatly over one shoulder and out of the ring. Matt was on him immediately, and both men traded blows before taking each other over the top rope. John and Hunter were finally back on their feet, avoiding a second chokeslam attempt, dropkicking Kane before hitting him with a double clothesline that sent all three of them over the top rope. Ted and Cody were left in the ring, and the two former tag-team partners shook hands, grinning wryly. But in the end, it was Ted who hit Dream Streets on Cody, tossing his friend out of the ring.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners—Team Raw!" Jerry announced, ecstatic. "Team Raw has triumphed over Team Smackdown!" Erin stuck her tongue out at Rey backstage, but Rey just laughed.

"My turn to go warm up," he announced. "Blessing and besa, hija?" Aliyah darted over as her father knelt, crossing him before kissing his forehead.

"Good luck," Angie said quietly, kissing her husband as he left. Rey spared a moment to ruffle Dom's hair before leaving, and Erin smiled as she continued to stretch.

"It's the Divas Royal Rumble next, isn't it?" Dom asked. Erin pointed wordlessly to the television screen.

"As with any Royal Rumble match, one new opponent will enter every minute," Matt Striker was saying. "Without further adieu, our first participant: the Straight-Edge anti-Diva, Serena!"

For the first time, Serena came out unescorted, her usual motorcycle jacket and dark jeans replaced by leather pants and a black tank top. She bounced into the ring, ignoring the boos that rose around her. The countdown began on the clock above the entrance ramp, and it was Tiffany who entered as the counter reached zero. The boos immediately turned to cheers as Tiffany charged down the ramp, sliding under the bottom rope. She went immediately for a Northern Lights suplex, but Serena rolled away, hitting Tiffany with a roundhouse kick as the former General Manager stumbled forward. Tiffany staggered backwards, reeling, and Serena sent her over the top rope just as the counter reached zero once more.

"Tiffany is sent out of the ring by the anti-Diva Serena, and our next entrant is the sexy Alicia Fox!" Michael Cole announced. Alicia strutted through down the ramp, blowing kisses to the crowd before slipping into the ring, tossing her hair back and posing. Serena glared at her, shoving her over the top rope without a second thought. "And Serena is dominating the competition tonight!" Serena stood at the center of the ring, arms crossed as she waited for the clock to reach zero. "It looks like our next entrant is Layla El, one half of the incredibly dominant Team Lay-Cool."

Layla wasted no time, charging Serena and taking her down to the mats. Serena twisted, throwing Layla off and into the ropes. When she charged, though, Layla ducked, throwing Serena over one shoulder—and over the top rope, out of the ring.

"And Layla has removed the Straight Edge anti-Diva from the competition just as our next competitor is leaving the tunnel—and it's Michelle McCool, Layla's tag team partner! Oh, this should be interesting," Jerry declared, excited. Michelle hopped into the ring, and the two women stared each other down for a long, tense moment, and even Erin was on the edge of her seat. Instead, disappointing the entire audience, Team Lay-Cool promptly hugged, standing in the center of the ring with their arms around each others' waists. "It appears that team Lay-Cool plans to work together. Well, this is certainly an interesting development."

"And I pity the next Diva to enter this stadium—and it looks like it's going to be the Diva so nice her parents named her twice, Kelly Kelly!" Michael Cole announced. Kelly didn't look worried as she bounced into the ring, baseball sliding into Layla's legs before springing upright, aiming a punch at Michelle's head. Michelle blocked her, hitting her with a dropkick that sent her into the ropes. Layla, still on the mats, kicked up, and Michelle helped her tag team partner send Kelly over the ropes just as the next Diva entered.

"And here she is, the WWE's first third-generation Diva—Natalya!" Jerry announced, grinning. "Mike, I really love watching her wrestle. She's a real grappler, out of the Hart Family Dungeon." Natalya took out Layla with a punch to the kidneys before she even got into the ring, sliding in and facing off against Michelle. Michelle moved first, driving a kick at Natalya's torso. Natalya caught it and swept her other leg out from under her, dumping Michelle onto the mats. When Michelle finally got back to her feet, Natalya hit her with one running bulldog, then another. After the second one, Michelle could barely make it back to her feet, and Natalya hauled her upright to push her over the top rope, slowly but surely. "And Natalya has knocked out Michelle McCool! This is incredible, ladies and gentlemen."

"And it looks like the next Diva to enter is the lovely Gail Kim," Michael went on, as Gail ran down the ramp, watching Layla and Natalya carefully as she made her way into the ring. Natalya ignored her, going after Layla as Gail slid into the ring. Her roundhouse kick knocked Layla back, but Layla fired back with a barrage of punches that left Natalya reeling. There was a tension-filled pause as the three Divas watched each other cautiously. Natalya glanced over at Gail, raising her eyebrows. Gail smirked, nodding, and the two charged Layla, knocking her out of the ring with a double clothesline. Backstage, Erin grinned as Natalya and Gail shook hands (if somewhat warily), waiting for the next Diva to join them.

"Our next entrant—the beautiful Brie Bella!" Jerry announced. Brie waved cheerfully as she bounced down to the ring. In the ring, Gail turned on Natalya, catching her by surprise with a kick to the temple. Natalya staggered backwards, and Brie climbed in quickly, jumping on Gail from behind and holding her arms back. Natalya recovered quickly, and Brie pushed Gail into the ropes. Natalya levered her up and over, and the two Divas smiled triumphantly, even as Maryse made her way down to the ring.

Maryse wasted no time, driving an elbow into Brie's jaw and knocking her to the mats. Natalya went after Maryse, but the French-born Diva caught her in a headlock and twisting her painfully. Natalya grimaced, trying to fight her way free, but Maryse held on until Natalya could only scrabble weakly at her arm. Natalya went over the ropes just as Brie finally got back to her feet, and she drove both hands into the back of Maryse's neck. Maryse only just hung on to the ropes, and Brie was distracted as Jillian slid into the ring. Brie turned to face her instead, driving a kick into Jillian's diaphragm before she could stand fully upright. She followed it up with a sitting facebuster, drawing cheers from the crowd. She grinned, waving cheerfully before dumping Jillian, one limb at a time—over the top rope.

"And our next Diva—the Glamazon, Beth Phoenix!" Michael announced, sounding excited. "Jerry, I know how much you love watching Natalya—I feel the same way about Beth Phoenix. She's just incredibly dominant, and gorgeous to boot."

"I can respect that," Jerry chuckled, watching as Beth took out Maryse with ease. Brie nodded her thanks to Beth, and the two stood side by side as they watched the ramp. It was Rosa who appeared next, though without her usual jump rope.

"Oh, you are so dead," Brie whispered under her breath, cracking her knuckles viciously. Beth hid a smile.

"Can I help?" she asked, and Brie shrugged agreeably. Rosa paused just outside of the ring, and Beth grabbed her wrists, pulling her into the ring. Brie went after her as soon as she was inside, and Rosa could only throw up her arms to protect her face. After a sitout facebuster, Brie let Beth take over, nailing Rosa with the Glam Slam. The two lifted Rosa and tossed her unceremoniously over the top rope.

"And our final competitor—oh, Mike, this is going to be great! Our last Diva to enter is Nikki Bella!" Jerry announced. Beth, to Erin's surprise, looked somewhat resigned. Unsurprisingly, Nikki and Brie teamed up, going after Beth. Beth put up a good fight, but Brie and Nikki eventually prevailed. "It's the battle of the twins!" Brie and Nikki heard him and glanced over, shaking their heads stubbornly. The referee looked confused, turning to speak with them. Brie and Nikki just shook their heads again, standing arm in arm. The referee shrugged helplessly, indicating for the bell to be rung.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your co-champions—Nikki and Brie Bella!" Jerry announced, surprised. Brie and Nikki jumped up and down in the middle of the ring, waving to the crowd. Erin couldn't help but laugh, sliding down onto the floor to begin stretching.

"Daddy's match!" Aliyah cheered. Erin laughed, sliding into a split.

"Three minutes of commercials, and then one of the best matches of the day for sure," she agreed. "What do you think, Dom? Will we see a 619 today?"

"He said there's something almost cathartic about slamming Punk's face with his feet," Dom remarked, and Erin grinned, amused. "So my answer—most likely."

"Sounds good to me," Wade commented cheerfully. "It's every bit as enjoyable to watch." Even Angie chuckled at that, settling into Erin's vacated spot.

"So Heath, you think you'll be here next year?" Erin asked, switching legs.

"I'd really like to be, but I'm not expecting it or anything," Heath replied, sprawling lazily across the loveseat. "Who knows? I'll just work as hard as I can, and see what happens from there."

"I like your attitude," Erin said, impressed. "How about you, Justin? Where do you see yourself next year?"

"I'd like a contract," Justin admitted. "I can't even begin to describe how much I'd really, really like a contract. And—this sounds so sappy coming out, but I'd really like to see where my relationship with Brie goes."

"Awwww," Aliyah and Erin chorused, bursting into giggles as they glanced at each other.

"Seriously, though, good for you," Erin told him, patting his shoulder.

"Quiet—the match is back on!" Dom hissed. All eyes turned back to the TV.

"Introducing first, the Straight Edge Society!" Matt Striker announced. "Weighing in at 222 pounds, the Straight Edge Savior, CM Punk, and his partner, the First Disciple of Discipline, Luke Gallows!" Punk knelt at the top of the ramp, pausing before taking Serena's hand as they headed down to the ring. They were greeted with boos, and Aliyah stuck her tongue out at them as they appeared on-screen. Erin couldn't help but laugh.

"And the challengers, at a combined weight of 374 pounds, the team of Rey Mysterio and the Undertaker!" Matt went on. Somehow, the soundboard guys had managed to mix their theme music, and both men made their way to the ring to thunderous applause.

"Jerry, could you have ever imagined that you'd see Rey and the Undertaker as a tag team?" Michael asked, excited. "This match is just—I'm really geeking out right now." Jerry laughed.

"It's going to be an incredible match," he agreed. "And it looks like we'll see Gallows and the Undertaker in the ring first." The bell rang for the start of the match, and the two titans clashed in the center of the ring.

Luke struck first, grappling Mark into a position where he could haul him into an exploder suplex. But Mark was back on his feet quickly, nailing Gallows with a big boot to the chest. By the time Luke was up, he was ready, twisting his arm and climbing onto the top rope.

"Oh, we're seeing it early this match—Undertaker's going Old School!" Jerry announced, excited. Mark jumped down from the top rope, chopping down on Luke's arm. Luke staggered backwards, clutching his arm, and Erin grinned backstage. Mark followed it up with a sidewalk slam, going quickly for the pin. Luke kicked out, rolling away and using the ropes to haul himself up. He hit Mark with a leaping shoulder block that left Mark on his back. Luke grinned viciously, going for a belly to back suplex. Mark nailed him with a series of elbow strikes to the jaw, pushing away and exploding off the ropes for a running leaping clothesline. The crowd roared with delight as Mark hit him with a running jumping leg drop. Luke groaned, rolling away slowly.

Serena jumped onto the ring apron, distracting Mark long enough for Luke to tag Punk in. Punk hit a one-handed bulldog on Mark as he charged out of the corner, leaving him reeling.

"Looks like Undertaker might be in trouble here," Michael commented. Rey banged on the corner post, bringing the crowd to their feet in Mark's support.

"Come on, Mark," Erin whispered under her breath. He just managed to escape Punk's reach as the straight-edge superstar went for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker, tagging Rey in to wild applause.

Rey went straight over the top rope, dropkicking Punk and knocking him into the middle of the ring. He went to the top rope once more as Punk charged back, springboarding off and hitting him with a sitout facebuster. Punk managed to roll through, trying to hold Rey down for the pin, but Rey kicked out and flung him off. Punk went for a snap scoop powerslam, but Rey slammed a kick into his hamstring, then another. He landed a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takedown, going for the pin. Luke charged into the ring, shoving Rey off and slamming his head into the corner post. Rey blinked, dazed, trying to roll away.

"And here comes the Undertaker!" Jerry bellowed, as Mark baseball slid into Luke, knocking him out of the ring. Rey staggered back to his feet, ducking under Punk's one-handed bulldog attempt and catching him in a drop toe-hold that sent Punk onto his face. Erin held her breath, eyes darting between Mark and Rey.

As she watched, awed, Mark launched himself, no-handed, from the top rope, suicide diving into Luke. Both men went down hard, and Luke most definitely took the worse of the blow. Erin bit her lip, willing Mark to get back up. Instead, she saw a familiar black-hooded figure coming down the entrance ramp, heading straight for Mark.

"Oh, no you don't," she growled. She ducked out of the locker room, pushing several startled wrestlers as she sprinted towards the entrance ramp herself. The Straight-Edge Society's Mystery Man was already laying into Mark, driving punch after punch into his head. "Hold on, Mark!" she bellowed. The man looked up, startled, just in time to catch her running knee to his shoulder. He flew backwards into the apron, and she clapped both hands over his ears, disorienting him. Reaching under the apron, Erin pulled out a pair of handcuffs, cuffing him to the corner pole for good measure. She looked up as someone hit the ropes above her, and grinned up at Punk, who hung dazed and woozy between the second and third ropes. Wisely backing away, she joined the rest of the crowd in a thunderous "619" chant as Rey dialed it up, nailing Punk before pinning him. Erin saluted Rey cheerfully, and he reached down to shake her hand.

"Thanks," he called, his voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd.

"Anytime, Rey," she replied, laughing. She turned back to Mark, offering her hand to help him upright. "Are you alright, Mr. Calloway?"

"Thought you were going to call me Mark, little lady," he reminded her, grunting as she helped him to his feet. Erin grinned, shaking his hand as well. "Thank you, Erin."

"You're welcome, Mark," she replied, laughing. "Go on, get up there!" Mark climbed into the ring as Erin saluted one last time, vaulting over the barrier to make her way backstage once more. "Oh, Steph is going to kill me."

* * *

A/N: Okay, an even LONGER chapter! Geez, I must like you guys or something…keep those reviews coming, please! They make me so happy :)


	34. Don't Quit

Erin was already dressed for her match, but her tape was in her locker room, and she nearly sprinted back, nearly falling over backwards as she caught sight of Stephanie, arms crossed.

"Where the hell have you been?" Stephanie demanded.

"Steph, what did we say about being calm?" Erin asked.

"Erin, I swear to God I'm going to kill you," Stephanie said calmly.

"See, Steph? That sounds so much calmer. Good work," Erin replied, unperturbed.

"What did I tell you about when you needed to be here?" Steph demanded, sounding distinctly more perturbed.

"I was in the greenroom ten minutes before you asked me to be," Erin replied, still calm. "Then the mystery guy in the Straight-Edge Society went after Rey and Mark, and they were both occupied, so I helped out. And here I am, back with five minutes before the commercial break ends, ready to go."

"Well, don't—don't do it again," Stephanie said finally, crossing her arms defensively.

"Yes, ma'am," Erin laughed, hastily turning it into a cough at Stephanie's glare. "So do I go out as soon as the commercial break is over?"

"Actually, we're surprising one of the Make-a-Wish kids with a birthday cake, so you've got another ten minutes," Stephanie admitted sheepishly. "But we can grab you out of your locker room, if you want to wait back there." Erin didn't hide her laugh this time, and shook her head as she turned back towards her locker room. To her surprise, Beth was waiting outside, an odd expression on her face.

"Erin, you've got some friends here to see you," she called, smiling. Erin peered around her doorframe, puzzled. Her expression turned to one of shock as she saw a dozen familiar faces inside her door, all men who stood or sat awkwardly, arms crossed.

"You didn't think we'd let our sister walk to the biggest fight of her life alone, did you?" one asked.

"Not for a minute, Colby," Erin laughed when she could finally speak, accepting his hug. If she was crying a little, none of them mentioned it (though Colby slipped her a tissue when he hugged her). "Boys, this is Beth Phoenix, my best friend from high school. Beth, these are my boys—Colby, our Sergeant, Ryan, Nate, Connor, Rob, Dave, Ronnie, Mike, Mark, Luke, Logan, and Chris. Also known as Israel, Blackbeard, Forrest, Rubik, the Three Stooges, Tyson, Mighty Mouse, Tiny, Hands, and Bullseye." The 'boys' of Erin's squad each stepped forward in turn to shake Beth's hand and offer a hug to Erin. Not one of them was unmarked—one had a dulled glass eye, several more bore prosthetic limbs, two were in wheelchairs, and all of them had plenty of scars.

"We're escorting you to the ring," Nate informed her, grinning. "We saw how you beat up on Randy the first week you were here, and we couldn't miss seeing that again."

"That, and we wanted to meet John Cena," Ryan added. Erin laughed, shaking her head.

"He should be by any minute—it's always him or Beth who walks me down," she replied. "Speak of the devil." John trotted down the hallway, and she turned to him, smiling. Without slowing, he grabbed her hips and pulled her close, kissing her soundly. Erin looked up at him, still smiling, as he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close. "What was that for?" she asked. "Not that I mind, mind you."

"Because I wanted to," John informed her promptly. "And for good luck, but mostly because I wanted to." Ryan cleared his throat, and Erin laughed, turning back to them without leaving John's side.

"John, this is my old squad," she said, smiling. "Boys, meet John Cena."

"Thank you so much for all that you've done for this country," John said, leaving her side to shake her squadmates' hands. "We're lucky to have guys like you on the front lines."

"And girls like G.I. Jane here," Connor added, indicating Erin, who grinned even as she rolled her eyes.

"Ready to go?" Logan asked. Erin nodded as John stepped forward to escort her on one side as Colby took her other arm. Ryan politely offered his arm to Beth, who accepted it with a smile.

"Let's go kick some ass," Erin agreed, a smile of her own spreading across her face. Mike grabbed her rolls of tape as they left, walking down the hall as a unit. The stadium filled with cheers as they made their way to the top of the ramp, and Erin stepped forward, saluting the crowd. Behind her the squad saluted as well, standing at attention. In the ring, Randy Orton could not have looked more murderous.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" she called, and the crowd quieted. "I am honored to introduce to you to the Dragon Squad of Company B, Second Battalion Second Marines—my boys."

"Oorah!" they chorused behind her, holding up their right arms, which all bore the same tattoo as Erin's, and Erin couldn't help but laugh.

"They'll be escorting me down to the ring tonight," she finished. "So give them a nice warm welcome, would you?" The crowd was on their feet instantly, cheering deafeningly as the squad marched down to the ring. Beth and John raised her arms in front of her, allowing Colby and Ryan to wrap her arms from knuckles to mid-forearm with her tape. Erin handed over her t-shirt and dog tags to John before ducking under the ropes, watching as her squad took up positions around the ring. Randy watched them warily, and Erin grinned to see it.

"I think he might remember us," Luke called. Colby cracked his knuckles menacingly, and the squad continued to stare down Randy Orton.

"You're unforgettable, boys," Erin replied, cracking her neck as she tried to loosen up. John ducked into the ring behind her, massaging her shoulders

"You know you can do this," he whispered, the words for her ears alone. "Kick his ass, alright?"

"With pleasure," Erin replied grimly, cracking her knuckles.

"Here—for good luck, even though you don't need it," John said, sliding one of his armbands onto her bicep. "And no, I didn't wear that one in my match." Erin laughed as he ducked out of the ring, crossing herself quickly as she sat in the corner.

"Boys, no interfering," she called sternly. "I mean it. No matter what, you don't touch him. I have to fight this one myself." Her squad and John nodded reluctantly, taking up posts along the barrier.

"The following match is a no count out, no disqualification I Quit match," the ring announcer intoned. "At stake is the World Heavyweight Championship, and the match will feature the Viper Randy Orton and the G.I. Jane Erin Harris!"

The bell rang, and the two superstars circled each other cautiously. Randy lunged at her, and she met him head on, grabbing his arm and turning away, dropping to flip him over one shoulder.

"And that's her judo background," Jerry commented, watching as Randy returned to his feet warily. Erin feinted in, but Randy avoided her, hitting her with a European uppercut that sent her reeling. She shook her head, recovering quickly, but Randy hit her with several jabs to the head and back, kicking her as she fell to her hands and knees. She flew halfway across the ring, hitting her ribs hard. When Randy charged at her, though, she caught him with a drop toe hold, sending him onto his face. Erin struggled slowly to her feet, resting for a moment, before performing a forward standing moonsault onto his chest. Randy rolled out of the ring, catching his breath as he clutched his ribs. Erin returned to the center of the ring, watching him carefully. He slid back into the ring slowly, and Erin backed up, bouncing off the ropes to charge him. He clotheslined her quickly, sending her flat onto her back, and she sat up, clutching her neck. Randy lunged forward, wrapping his legs around her and compressing her torso. Erin gasped for air, struggling frantically.

"Ask her," he ordered the referee, who lowered the microphone to Erin's mouth.

"No," she whispered, barely able to breathe. She managed to connect an elbow with his jaw, and then another, and Randy fell backwards, breaking the hold. Erin lay against the mats, fighting desperately to catch her breath. Randy rose before she did, stomping on her shoulders, ribs, hips, knees, and ankles with devastating precision. Erin flinched, clutching each new injury, managing to roll out under the bottom rope. Randy turned his back, facing the crowd with a vicious smirk on his face. Erin struggled up to the top rope.

"Hey, asshole!" she called. Randy turned, and Erin couldn't help but laugh that he'd responded. She hit him with a springboard clothesline, sending him to the mats. He lay there, stunned, and she made her way to the top rope once more, bouncing off and soaring high above the ring, hitting Randy with a beautiful back moonsault that made the crowd cheer. "Come on! Get up!" Randy growled, fighting to rise, and Erin hit him with a roundhouse kick. Randy staggered backwards, and she hit him with another one, then another, until she drove him into the corner post. Randy fought back, catching her by surprise with a dropkick that sent her into the opposite corner, and she clutched her spine, pain written all over her face. She stumbled towards the center of the ring with the force of the hit, and he grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around until they were back to back, wrapping one arm around her neck and yanking her into an inverted headlock backbreaker. Erin screamed at the pain, arching away from the mat, her knuckles white and her face drawn with pain. Randy stomped his way up and down her body once more, calling for the referee.

"Ask her!" he commanded. Erin shook her head stubbornly, and Randy growled angrily. He dragged her to her feet, pulling her into a full nelson that became a half nelson slam. Erin cried out once more, but she managed a "no" when the referee asked her if she quit. Randy threw her across the ring angrily, and Erin used the ropes to pull herself to her feet. When Randy came at her once more, she jumped to her feet with energy no one knew she had, pushing off the mats as hard as she could to wrap both legs around his head, twisting her body midair to throw him across the ring. When he came at her once more, she performed a piked front flip, catching his head between her ankles as she uncurled and reversing her momentum to throw him back over her and into the corner post. He slithered out of the ring, and Erin paused just long enough to adjust her armband before vaulting over the top rope.

Outside of the ring, however, Randy was already on his feet, and Erin flew backwards as he slammed the World Heavyweight Championship belt into her stomach. Wheezing, Erin rolled away, trying to keep the corner of the ring between herself and Randy. She crawled frantically towards the steel steps, trying to get behind them. Randy grabbed her ankles, dragging her backwards, and she rolled onto her back, twisting one foot free and driving it into his shoulder. He let go, and Erin flipped to her feet, finally catching her breath. When he charged her again, belt still in hand, she was ready, dropping to flip him over one shoulder and into the steel ring steps. The crowd roared in approval, but Erin shook her head, wiping her forehead on her armband before sliding back into the ring, waiting for Randy. He rolled back into the ring, looking worse for the wear, and Erin went to grab his wrist, meaning to flip him over her hip once more. Instead, her hand closed over something hard and cold, and Randy smirked viciously as he drove his brass-knuckled fist into her temple. Erin's eyes rolled up and she nearly dropped. She grabbed on to Randy's shoulder as she fell, throwing him off-balance just long enough for her to fall out of the ring, using the apron to pull herself back to her feet.

When Randy leaned through the ropes to see where she was, she Péle kicked him, sending him reeling. She dragged herself back into the ring, ducking his wild swing and catching his wrist, driving her elbow into the pressure point just below his elbow and leaving his hand numb. The brass knuckles slid off his fingers as his hand flew open, and Erin kicked them out of the ring. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Colby grab them and slip them onto one hand, flexing his fingers experimentally, and she grinned. Randy took advantage of her momentary distraction, pulling her into a sleeper hold. Erin drove her elbow into his jaw, leaving him dazed enough that she could drop to one knee and throw him over her shoulder and out of the ring once more. This time, when she followed him out of the ring, she was careful to watch for any weapons he might be carrying. When he swung a steel chair at her, she was ready, tearing it from his grip and flinging it into the ring. Randy backed away, running towards the ramp, but his path was blocked by Ryan and Connor, who stood, arms crossed, looking more than ready to take him down should he try to pass them. Instead, Randy headed for the announcers' table, grabbing a spare power cord and wrapping it around his knuckles. Erin blocked his first punch, but his second split her cheek open to the bone, and blood trickled freely down her face. Erin growled, undeterred, nailing Randy with a roundhouse kick that sent him through the table.

"Sorry, Mike, Jerry," she panted, as the announcers scattered. Jerry waved her on as she went to check Randy and drag him back in the ring for the referee. As soon as he rolled over, though, he nailed her with the timekeeping bell, and Erin flew back so hard her head cracked against the ring apron, leaving her dazed and dizzy. Dimly, she felt something wrap around her wrists, and shook her head to clear it to find that her hands were tied behind her back to the corner post. When she tried to wrench them free, a white-hot bolt of pain shot up her arms. That pain was quickly replaced by another across her torso, as Randy slammed the kendo stick across her ribs. Erin gritted her teeth, glaring straight at Randy as he brought the kendo stick down again and again. He paused once her skin broke and blood began to trickle down her ribs, waving to the referee.

"Ask her," he ordered, leaning his weight on the stick as he rested, breathing a little heavily.

"No," Erin said immediately, and the ref backed away. "No, boys. No to you, too." Rob, Dave, and Ronnie, who had been making their way towards her, stopped, looking disappointed. Despite the pain, Erin laughed, wincing as the action caused her ribs to hurt even more. "I'm doing this myself."

"Well, you're not doing so well, are you?" Randy sneered, bringing the kendo stick down so hard it snapped in half as it struck her. This time, Erin screamed, and Randy climbed back into the ring, going for the steel chair. She caught her breath slowly, blocking out the pain, and stretched her torso experimentally.

"Suck it up!" Logan yelled teasingly, but Erin could hear the worry in his voice.

"You got it, Hands," she called back, flexing her arms. With a massive effort that left both her shoulders screaming, she tore free of the electrical cord, stumbling away as she shook out her arms. Shaking her head, she vaulted back into the ring, baseball sliding into Randy's ankles as he swung the chair at her. The chair clattered to the mats as he fell, though he was on his feet again almost immediately. Erin used the ropes to pull herself up, dodging his shoulder block and hitting him with headscissors takedown as she exploded off the ropes and flew back at him. This time, it took him a little longer to get back to his feet, and Erin drove a roundhouse kick at him as soon as he did. Randy caught her foot, twisting it to throw her, but Erin managed to turn it into an enzuigiri. She followed it up with a dropkick that sent him back into the corner—right next to the chair. He snatched it up immediately, and Erin lunged at him, trying to grab it out of his hands, but he hit her in the stomach with it, knocking the wind from her lungs. Erin fell, trying frantically just to breathe, and Randy snapped the chair shut on her ankle, stomping on it. She felt several somethings pop, and she only just managed to knock him away with a kick to the jaw. Wriggling her ankle free, she managed to stand, though the effort turned her ankle into a solid mass of pain. When Randy came at her once more, she hit him with a roundhouse kick that echoed across the stadium as it connected. He slumped down against the ropes, and Erin staggered backwards.

"Ask him!" she demanded, rolling away and rising to her feet slowly, checking her injuries. Randy growled his 'no,' and Erin grimaced. When Randy charged her, she exploded off the ropes, nailing him with a springboard roundhouse kick. He went down hard, and she hobbled forward, walking gingerly on her ankle. Rather than trying to jump, she dropped, transitioning a 180o spun flare into a leg drop across his chest. There was a satisfyingly loud whack that resulted, and Erin rolled away. Grabbing the ropes, she climbed them doggedly, pausing at the top as she straddled the ropes, facing the ring. Randy grabbed her neck, trying to throw her to the mats, but she clung on with all her might, swinging her legs through and driving both knees into his jaw. She hung there for a moment, all her weight suspended on her arms, before swinging her legs back into a sitting position. Randy came at her once more, and she bounced twice before springboarding towards him, catching him in a headscissors takedown. She dropped on him at once, driving blow after blow into his head until the referee pulled her off.

"Ask him," she panted, bending to check her ankle once more. Randy shook his head as she reached for her ankle, feeling it twinge. She looked up just in time to see Randy charge her. He wrapped his arm around her neck, yanking her forward into an RKO. Her head struck the mat hard, bouncing up, and Randy took the opportunity to catch his breath, lying back against the mat and taking his time.

Erin could barely breathe as she lay against the mats. Strangely, all she could think of was Jamal, the first Afghani soldier she'd met. He'd been orphaned by one war and raised in another, and was fighting in yet a third. Erin remembered asking him how he did it, day after day, one man against impossible odds.

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, hamshireh," he'd said simply. "It's the size of the fight in the dog." As she came out of her memory, she could dimly hear her squad, but held on to that motto with all her strength.

"Private Harris, get up right now!" Colby bellowed. "That's an order, Private Harris! Get your ass in gear!" Erin shook her head, rolling back and forth on her stomach. She dragged herself up onto her forearms and knees, body shaking as she tried to stand. Every muscle was screaming out in pain and exhaustion. She could feel the pull in her ankle, and didn't know if she dared put weight on it. New bruises blossomed across her torso and on her hips, and something didn't quite feel right with her spine.

"Come on, Bionic Woman," Luke called, and Erin heard her squad's voices a little more clearly. "You didn't quit when you carried me three miles on an hour of sleep, you're not quitting now." There was a throbbing headache beginning to build at the base of her neck now, and she blinked sweat out of her eyes, fighting with every inch of her body to rise.

"Get up, G.I. Jane!" Ryan ordered. She had yet to move off of her forearms, but her shoulders and elbows no longer felt like they were about to collapse. She inhaled sharply as the pain in her ribs kicked in, but gritted her teeth and refused to cry out.

"Come on, Doc, you survived a war, you survived being a POW, you kicked his ass the first day you were here," Connor reminded her urgently. "You can do it again. You're more than strong enough." Erin's eyes rolled back in her head as she nearly passed out, but something in her wouldn't let her quit. She growled, deep in her throat, her whole body shaking with exhaustion and determination.

"You earned this, Baby Girl," Mike called, banging on the apron to capture her attention. "Don't you dare quit now!" She was on her hands and knees now, fighting to get upright. Randy struggled to rise as well, finally noticing her.

"Come on, beautiful," John called, and Erin could hear his voice clearest of all. "You're not quitting. It's not in your vocabulary, remember?" She made it to her feet with a massive effort, staring Randy straight in the eye.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I don't believe it—I don't know that anyone's ever gotten up from an RKO!" Jerry raved, awestruck. "Erin Harris has gotten up from Randy Orton's RKO!"

With a roar of effort, Erin hauled Randy onto her shoulders in a fireman's carry. His feet nearly touched the ground, and she staggered under the weight, but she held on, falling backwards into a Samoan drop.

"It's the IED!" Michael announced unnecessarily, but Erin was well beyond listening at that point. She didn't waste a second before dragging Randy into a dragon sleeper hold, every muscle taut with exertion.

"Get a microphone over here!" she demanded, holding on to Randy with every ounce of her strength. "Ask him. Ask him!" The referee took his sweet time getting over there, she thought, but that might have been the pain talking. She squeezed with every muscle, increasing the tension on his body, and Randy banged his hand on the mats.

"I quit! I quit!" he gasped. Erin released him, rolling away, too tired even to stand. Her squad was in the ring before she could move, though, hauling her onto their shoulders triumphantly. Every muscle in her body ached, and her back was on fire, and her ankle felt like if they set her down, she would fall, but she couldn't stop smiling. Her boys set her down, Colby supporting her on one side, John on the other, as the referee came over.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "The new World Heavyweight Champion—Erin Harris!" He handed over the title belt, and Connor placed it carefully over her shoulder, as she was too tired to even lift her arms to do it herself. The referee handed her a mic as she beckoned for it, and the entire stadium could hear how heavily she was breathing.

"Randy Orton," Erin said slowly. "I've got four words for you: I told you so." She dropped the microphone, letting it fall to the mats as she turned back to her squad. "I'm not going to make it up that ramp," she informed them.

"That's what we're here for, G.I. Jane," Colby reminded her. John helped her down from the ring, and her squad immediately lifted her onto their shoulders once more, carrying her out of the stadium to thunderous applause.

* * *

A/N: Erin wins! Who's surprised? I hope I managed to make this match seem as long and drawn out as I intended it to be. It's an I Quit match, and it takes a lot to get people to quit, after all. Also, sorry I took so long to update-moving home from college is a hassle. Read and review, please!


	35. Love What You Do

Backstage, Erin lost count of the hugs and hi-fives she received. Beth was there immediately, Advil in hand, followed closely by Nikki, Brie, Natalya, and Eve. Erin noticed several of her squad eyeing the Divas appreciatively, but was too tired to say anything, and didn't complain as her squad carried her all the way back to the training rooms. The trainers, after proclaiming her match and recovery from the RKO to be nothing short of epic, took a look at her injuries. Thankfully, nothing was broken, and the bruises on her ribcage, while fantastically colorful, were beginning to pain her less and less. Her ankle was deemed to be a high sprain, treatable with a brace for the next week, and her cuts had already begun to close over with new skin—only the one on her cheek required stitches. A quick visit from Dr. Jess McGee, the WWE's resident chiropractor, fixed her spine, and promptly sent her for an ice bath.

Erin stripped down to her sports bra and underwear without a trace of self-consciousness, and sighed with relief as the soothing coolness sank into her muscles, and she lay back, relaxing.

"You look like a little kid, all peaceful and adorable," Connor commented. Erin opened one eye, chucking a piece of ice at him.

"I am _not _adorable," she said stubbornly. "I am a Marine. I am tough, and strong, and—"

"Adorable," John said cheekily, bending to kiss her swiftly. Erin wrinkled her nose at him, but she was smiling. "Alright, since she's incapacitated, who wants to tell funny stories about her?"

"Hey!" Erin protested. Colby chuckled.

"How about the time you taught Ryan Arabic?" Connor offered. Ryan groaned, but the others laughed.

"Okay, that's actually a good story. You may tell that one," Erin conceded.

"Thank you, your highness," Connor replied sarcastically, with an obnoxiously obsequious bow. "So Ryan's got a glass eye now, but he used to just wear an eyepatch." Ryan tapped his glass eye, and there was an audible clink. "That's still disgusting, Ryan. So like most of our squad, Ryan didn't speak Arabic. Actually, only Colby and Erin did—Colby because it was required, and Erin because she's an overachiever who studied it in her spare time in high school. Logan and Chris picked it up pretty quickly once we were there."

"It's true," Erin admitted, grinning. "Go on."

"So Ryan wanted to learn how to say 'How are you today?' so that he could at least have some kind of conversation with the locals, and build some goodwill for us, because the kids loved his eyepatch," Connor continued. "It probably helped that the first Pirates of the Caribbean had just come out, and half of them decided they wanted to be Captain Jack Sparrow when they grew up. So Erin offered to teach him a few phrases of Arabic, and I think she said she'd teach him 'Hello,' 'How are you today?', 'Can I help you?', and 'What's your name?'"

"You forgot 'My name is Ryan,'" Erin added, and Connor nodded.

"Alright, what did you actually teach him to say?" John asked, grinning.

"'Avast,' 'I'm Captain Jack Sparrow,' 'Where's the Black Pearl?', 'Wait for the opportune moment,' and 'You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest,'" Connor said, snickering. Ryan rolled his eyes, but the rest of the squad ragged on him mercilessly as Erin laughed. "The best part was when he went to ask one of the kids if they needed help when they were carrying water back from the well, and actually said, 'Avast, where's the Black Pearl?'"

"They thought I was trying to play along with and made me _be_ the Black Pearl for three hours while I gave them piggyback rides," Ryan grumbled. John tried to smother his laughter, but it burst out anyway, and Ryan smiled ruefully. "On the bright side, the kids and parents all loved us after that."

"One of the moms said the last squad posted there would never have been so kind to their kids," Colby added. "We just never let Ryan live it down."

"Hey, I was nothing compared to the Three Stooges over here, though," Erin chuckled. "I lost count of how many pranks they pulled."

"There was the time they wrapped everything Colby owned in foil," Mike reminisced.

"And the time they filled Erin's room with balloons," Mark laughed.

"You had to check the toilet seat for plastic wrap every time you went," Luke remembered. "Oh! And you know that prank where you fill a garbage can with water, and tilt it against the door? They did that to Chris, except with sand."

"They stole my clear nail polish once and covered a bar of soap with it, so it wouldn't suds up," Erin chuckled. "And Luke and Logan—they were two of the soundest sleepers you'd ever meet. Wouldn't wake up if a bomb went off outside the base. So the boys picked them up and switched who was in which bed. Took them a good half hour to figure out what was going on when they woke up."

"Ronnie's brother sent him a remote-controlled black widow spider toy, and we all woke up to it crawling on our faces at least once," Chris remarked. "And scared us all half to death when they rolled an MP3 player that looked like a grenade into the room." Ronnie grinned, pulling said MP3 player from his pocket.

"And the day before we were supposed to ship back stateside, we realized we hadn't pranked Ryan yet," Rob added. "So we got some power tools and got the whole squad into it, and flipped his entire room upside down. Even used duct tape to keep his clothes in place. It was definitely our best prank of the tour."

"The whole company took pictures," Dave said proudly. "Most epic prank of all time, they called it."

"Great. His head had finally just started shrinking," Connor grumbled. "You had to let him tell that story."

"Erin, you can get out whenever you're ready," Dr. McGee called. Erin stepped out of the tub, her skin bright red from the cold. "You're going to be sore, so I'd start taking Advil now. If it's really bad, you can come in for an IcyHot rubdown tomorrow. Other than that, though, you're free to go, but you're getting a full check-up before you even think about wrestling. And congrats again."

"Thanks," Erin said, nearly falling over as she stepped into her cargo pants. John and Colby reached out and caught her instinctively.

"I think the only time you ever managed not to be clumsy was when it actually mattered," Connor remarked. "Like the raid on that one bunker—"

"Or the obstacle course—" Ryan added.

"And the recon missions, and the rescue missions, thank you very much," Erin said tartly. Her offended look dissolved into a sheepish smile as she added, "Of course, get me in any non-military situation with the possible exception of dance, and I'm flat on my ass."

"Which is sad, because you have a nice ass," Connor teased.

"Watch it," John said warningly, but Erin just laughed.

"It's okay," she promised. "He hasn't looked in years."

"Probably because the last time he did, you gave him a black eye," Logan commented.

"It was our second week of basic!" Connor protested. "And we all know I wasn't the only one you beat up for that."

"In my defense, you guys kicked your fair share of ass on my behalf," Erin demurred. She grinned. "And no, you weren't. I just reminded them that there was a good reason I was a Marine, that's all."

"That's my girl," John said proudly, handing over her shirt. Erin laughed as she laced up her boots.

"So are you guys in town for much longer?" Erin asked, craning her head to look up at her squad.

"My son Danny's got a soccer game tomorrow," Rob said regretfully. "I have to head out tonight to make it back in time."

"I think most of us are planning to head out either tonight or tomorrow," Dave added. "Families and jobs and all. But we definitely need to get together more often than once a year. I know everybody'll be busy all through the holidays, but what about a week or so after New Years, maybe head down to Florida for some relaxation?"

"If you guys are going that much out of your way, I'm paying for hotel rooms for everyone," Erin said. "And that is not negotiable in any way, shape, or form. You guys did this for me, I'm doing this for you."

"Since I'd rather not have my ass kicked instead, I will instead accept your offer with gratitude," Connor chuckled. "And thanks, baby girl. That's really generous of you." Erin just smiled. "Colby, can we coordinate it through you? I know you've vacationed down there before."

"I can figure out accommodations, and I'll email Erin," Colby agreed. "You guys just let me know if it'll work for you, alright?"

"You got it, boss," Nate promised. "Does this mean we have to say our goodbyes?"

"We probably should," Chris said regretfully, holding his arms open for a hug. Erin hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek before stepping back. She made sure to hug each and every member of her squad before letting them leave, securing promises from each of them that they would keep in touch.

"Oh! I almost forgot—Meg wanted me to say hi," Connor said casually, pausing at the doorway. In response to Erin's puzzled look, he explained, blushing, "We started dating after the whole break-in incident." Erin laughed, shaking her head resignedly.

"Break her heart, and I'll break your neck," she warned, but there was no real anger in her threat. "Just be good to her, alright? She deserves a good guy."

"Yes, ma'am," Connor promised, saluting as he ducked out of the door. Erin shook her head once more, leaning against John's shoulder.

"Is everyone going out tonight?" she mumbled wearily.

"I think so, love," John chuckled, smoothing her hair back. "Tell you what—I'll drive us back to the hotel. You take a quick power nap, and then we'll see how you feel." Erin nodded, grabbing her bag before following him out to the garage. Her eyes drifted closed as soon as they pulled out of the parking lot, and she was still drowsy when they arrived at the hotel. She was slightly more awake by the time they reached their suite, but every muscle still ached, her bruises were now a rich, dark purple-blue, and she looked as though a puff of air would blow her down.

"I thin—I think I'm a little too tired for the club," she said sleepily, yawning. "You should go celebrate, though. You guys won the battle royal, after all."

"Nah, I'll stay in with you," John said, shrugging. "You need somebody to make sure you don't injure yourself. And to cuddle with."

"Mmm…cuddling," Erin mumbled. John laughed, tossing her one of his shirts. Erin nearly fell over as she wriggled out of her pants, changing before crawling into bed and curling up beneath the covers. John grabbed a pair of sweatpants before joining her, pulling her close. Erin winced slightly as he pressed one of her bruises, but just shifted into a more comfortable position against him.

"So did you know I was scared today?" he asked conversationally.

"Why's that?" Erin asked drowsily, snuggling against him.

"You," John said simply. "I hate seeing you get hurt." Erin rolled over to look at him, surprised. "I just always want to protect you, and I know I can't, and you don't even need protecting, and—" She silenced him by inching upward to kiss him, one hand against his bare chest, the other slipped into his hand.

"I think it's sweet," she told him finally, smiling, craning her head to look up at him. "I like being protected every now and then. And I can't think of anyone better to do it." John looked down at her, capturing her lips with his once more. "For what it's worth, I feel pretty safe and protected right now."

"Good," John smiled, keeping her held securely against his chest. "Because I'm too tired to move right now, so you better plan on sleeping like this." Erin just laughed, relaxing against him as she drifted off to sleep.

A/N: Shorter chapter…but still not too short. Also, mucho mucho mucho apologies for taking so long to update…so I'll post three chapters today to make up for it. And I PROMISE to get back to posting once a week. Really. Read and review, please!


	36. Take It Easy Sometimes

Erin managed to be awake without pain for approximately half a second before the pain kicked in—and did so quite violently. She flinched so hard she woke John when her elbow went straight into his ribs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried, trying to roll away. "Oh, John, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," John wheezed, catching his breath. "It's alright. You need Advil?" Erin nodded miserably, and John paused, kissing her forehead gently. "I'm fine, love, I promise. How many?"

"Six," Erin replied, slowly untangling herself from the sheets and crawling out of bed. "Owwww." John stifled a chuckle, returning with the Advil and a glass of water.

"I think I'll make breakfast today, then," he said, making his way out into the kitchenette. "How about Belgian waffles?"

"We have ice cream?" Erin called.

"No, but I can call room service," John replied cheerfully. Erin smiled, loosely braiding her hair before joining him, still walking gingerly. "Stop that. Go sit down and relax, alright? You took a beating yesterday."

"Yes, my body's reminding me of that fact," Erin said dryly. "In a very painful and obvious fashion."

"You just sit there, and I will bring everything to you, alright?" John told her. Erin collapsed gratefully onto the couch, biting back a groan as she landed on several bruises. As the Advil kicked in, she closed her eyes, dozing off for a moment.

"Here you go," John said, nudging her awake and setting a tray down in front of her. "Belgian waffles and hot cocoa for breakfast. And how about we have a day in, since movement's a little difficult for you right now?"

"Will there be massages?" Erin asked, her voice muffled by the too-large bite of waffle in her mouth. John wiped whipped cream off the tip of her nose, grinning.

"As many as you like," he told her.

"Oh, that's a bad promise to make," she warned him, though she was smiling. "I have an insatiable appetite when it comes to back massages. You should know that by now."

"I really should know better," John agreed, taking a bite of his waffle. "And this is every bit as good as the first time I had one. Remember it?"

"The morning after my debut," Erin recalled, smiling. "I made you a waffle when you told me you'd never tried one."

"So do you want me to get anybody else to stop by?" John offered. "Maybe Beth, or Rey, or Evan? I know they'll be glad to stop by."

"Want to just put out that we've got an open door all day?" Erin suggested. "I'd love to see anybody who feels like stopping by."

"Sounds fine by me, love," John said, sending out a mass text. "They'll be here soon, I'm sure."

"More like immediately," Erin said wryly, hearing thundering footsteps down the hall.

"Mighty Mouse!" Christian called, bursting through the door. "I brought company."

"I thought Mighty Mouse was my nickname for her," Morrison complained, following him in. Rey and Matt Hardy were right behind him.

"Guess that means I get to call her Super Ratón," Rey added, and Christian snickered.

"If we're giving her nicknames, I vote for Mini Me," Matt tossed out. "Fits you well. And it's easy to remember."

"Yet thankfully, Matt, I'm not a miniature you," Erin retorted, setting aside her plate and trying to sit up straighter. "I don't think the world could handle more than one Matt Hardy. Having another Hardy brother is almost too much as is."

"Oh, Jeff's far worse than I am," Matt said straight-faced. "Especially when he's had Skittles. Or any kind of sugar."

"Oh, God, keep that man away from sugar," Rey groaned, remembering. "Bad things happen when he has sugar."

"I'll remember that," Erin said, laughing. "If I ever meet your brother, I'll make sure not to give him sugar. How are y'all feeling today? I loved the Smackdown vs. Raw match, by the way."

"A few bruises, a few bumps," Christian said, waving his hand as if to brush the injuries off. "Nothing major. Unlike you, the human punching bag." Erin chuckled.

"Hey, he didn't break anything, at least," she protested. "And I can still walk. Kinda."

"For real, how are you doing, though?" Morrison asked seriously, grabbing a chair and taking a seat across the room.

"Feel free to grab a seat, guys," John offered, helping Erin into a more comfortable position.

"Everything hurts," she admitted, wincing. "The Advil hasn't kicked in yet. And I'm pretty sure everything will hurt for a while. My bruises are turning lovely shades of purple and blue, the welts look like hell, and I can't wait for another ice bath. But I honestly couldn't be happier."

"Well, that's a very shiny title you got yourself there," Matt drawled. "That gold—definitely a good color on you."

"I'm rather fond of it myself," Erin agreed cheerfully. "I'm planning to keep it on for a while. So what do y'all have planned for the day?"

"It's Vegas, baby—we're hitting the casinos all day and the clubs all night," Morrison told her. "I think Mel and Tiffany are coming with us—Mel's in town for Comic-Con."

"How's her ankle doing?" John asked. Morrison shrugged.

"Better, but she's still working out the ring rust before she comes back," he replied. "She wants to be back on the top."

"We were really just stopping by," Rey said, almost apologetically. "I'm spending every last minute I can with the family before we're off traveling again, and I know these guys wanted to go blow their money on the poker tables."

"Hey—I'll have you know I've got an excellent poker face," Christian protested. Matt rolled his eyes, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"I will gladly strip you of all your money and prove you wrong," he pronounced as they made their way towards the door. "Feel better, Erin!"

"Thanks, guys!" Erin called after them. She turned to John, raising her eyebrows. "If we're having visitors, I need to wear actual clothes."

"What do you want me to grab?" John asked, taking their plates back to the kitchenette. "I'll bring it out to you."

"Can you grab my long blue dress? It'll cover most of my bruises and won't press on any of them," Erin said. "And it's just really, really comfy."

"No problem, love," John called back, pulling it out of her closet. "Need a hand getting dressed?"

"Well, if you insist," she replied, smiling mischievously. John grinned, tossing the dress over the back of the couch and climbing over to take the seat next to her.

"You wouldn't want to pull anything, love," John cautioned her, slipping the hem of her shirt up her torso with tantalizing slowness. Erin shivered as he pulled her shirt over her head, careful of her bruises, running his hands along her sides. John's smile was wicked as helped her out of her sweatpants, bending down and supporting all his weight on his arms as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Get a room!" someone called from the door.

"We have a room—you're in it!" Erin yelled back, pulling away long from John long enough to glare at Heath. Justin and Wade were behind him, snickering as John positioned himself in front of Erin. "Now close the door. I need to put clothes on." John closed the door in Heath's face before he could make any snarky comments, helping Erin into her dress.

"They've got a piss-poor sense of timing," John grumbled.

"Well, I'll be here all day, love," Erin reminded him, winking. "And I'm really not all that capable of running away right now. I think we'll have time."

"Your Advil's kicked in, hasn't it?" he remarked. She looked at him, confused. "You're cranky when you're in pain. You're optimistic when you're not."

Erin was laughing as John opened the door, accepting the ribbing from the rookies good-naturedly. Brie, Nikki, and Cody, had joined them in the interim, and followed the rookies through the door.

"Hey, Brasilia," Brie called. Erin chuckled, reaching up and accepting Justin's handshake. "How're you feeling?"

"About as you'd expect," Erin replied, shrugging. "Congratulations to you two, as well. Co-Rumble Champions seems appropriate for twins."

"Too bad we don't get matching trophies," Nikki laughed. "That would have been awesome."

"We could always make our own," Brie suggested. Nikki grinned at her twin, and Erin just shook her head.

"So any chance you'll be joining us out on the town tonight?" Justin asked, wrapping his arm casually around Brie's shoulder.

"I'll think about it, but I'm not sure how much fun I'd be," Erin replied cautiously. "I kind of wince every time I move."

"I believe it was more of a scream when you woke up, love," John said dryly. Erin just leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Less talk, more backrub," she ordered. John laughed, sliding behind her. "John foolishly offered me unlimited backrubs today. This may also contribute to me not going out."

"What, the backrubs or what comes after?" Cody teased. Erin stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm waiting, remember?" she reminded him, holding up her left hand and waggling her fingers.

"Doesn't mean you can't cuddle," Cody said cheekily. Erin grinned at that. "You all packed up, Nikki? Because we should really head out soon."

"Where are you guys off to?" John asked, curious.

"Since we're in Charlotte for Raw next week, Brie and Justin and I are staying at Cody's house," Nikki explained. "He's right outside of the city, so it's pretty close."

"You guys should all come over for dinner one night," Cody offered. "I'd say come stay over, but we're rapidly running out of space."

"I never turn down a home-cooked meal," Wade said promptly. "Count me in."

"We'll keep you in the loop then, big boy," Cody laughed, clapping Wade on the shoulder. "We should go pack up the car. Feel better, Erin!"

"I'll try," Erin said dubiously, and Cody frowned.

"Try not," he said, giving his best imitation of Yoda. "Do, or do not."

"Yes, Master Yoda," Erin replied, stifling a giggle as the group trickled out of the room. "Mmm. That feels amazing."

"I do my best," John said modestly. Erin relaxed against him, already worn out.

"How am I tired again after being awake for four hours?" she grumbled.

"Your body needs time to heal, love," John reminded her. "That means rest. Why don't you take a nap, and I'll get some lunch going for us? I could make pizza."

"Sounds good to me," Erin said, already yawning. "I—mmm. I'll see you in about an hour."

"Sweet dreams," John chuckled, tucking her blanket under her chin as she rolled over. She was asleep within minutes.

* * *

When Erin finally awoke, it was 2:00 in the afternoon. John had dozed off on the chair next to her, and she smiled slightly before she rolled slowly off the couch, biting her lip to keep from crying out as the pain kicked in. The pizza sat atop the stove, kept warm by the low heat of the oven, and John had laid out four Advil next to her slices.

"Could he be any more perfect?" she whispered, hobbling over to grab her pizza and heading back to the couch.

"He could win the lottery," Beth stage-whispered from the door. Erin giggled, plopping onto couch. "I won't stay long—don't want to wake Sleeping Beauty over there. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were feeling."

"Like I've been run over by a truck. Or several," Erin replied, though her voice was muffled by the massive bite of pizza currently in her mouth. "But the Advil should be kicking back in soon, and I can walk. Kind of."

"Well, if there's anything Ted or I can do, just let me know, okay?" Beth said, hugging Erin carefully. "Congrats again, Snow White." Erin settled back on the couch just in time to see John blink himself awake, smiling drowsily at her.

"This pizza's amazing, love," she told him, pushing herself backwards slightly. "Thanks for making it."

"Anytime," John said, yawning even as he grinned sheepishly.

Their afternoon passed in much the same fashion as the morning had—half the rosters of Smackdown and Raw stopped by just to say hello or check in, passing on congratulations and well wishes. Even Mark, still wearing his signature black coat, came over, shaking John's hand gravely and offering Erin a bouquet of sunflowers that she immediately placed in a vase. By the evening, Erin felt good enough that she was walking around, testing her ankle.

"Do we want to try and go out on the town tonight?" she asked finally, wincing slightly. "It is Vegas, after all."

"Actually, I had a different plan in mind," John replied. "I wanted it to be a surprise, but I—I set up a romantic dinner on the balcony. I picked up food—there's steak, and the mozzarella and prosciutto you loved, and chocolate shakes." Erin's eyes widened, and she stepped towards John slowly, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"I'll put on something pretty, then," she promised, her hand lingering on his chest as she ducked into the bathroom. John smiled slowly, putting on a royal blue buttondown and a pair of dark washed jeans. When Erin came out of the bathroom, John couldn't help but stare. She wore a long dress the same shade as his shirt, a one shoulder silhouette with rhinestone detailing along the shoulder and an open kimono sleeve with a fitted cuff at her wrist. Her dark curls fell over one shoulder, but she went barefoot. "How do I look?"

"Absolutely breathtaking," John replied without hesitation, taking her hand and leading her out onto the balcony. The table there was set for two, with a plain white tablecloth, candles, and a single long-stemmed rose in a vase at the center. John pulled out her chair, helping her into her seat, before wheeling over a cart with several covered platters. "I realized that I'd forgotten to get us dessert last time we went out."

"I think the chocolate milkshakes pretty much covered that," Erin laughed, smiling up at John as he set out their dinner. "So what's for dessert this time?"

"It's a surprise," John told her promptly. "Besides, don't you want dinner first?"

"Of course," Erin replied, still smiling. John set out the food carefully, taking the seat across from her and handing over her milkshake. "This all looks amazing. You're the best boyfriend ever."

"I do what I can," John said modestly. "Now. I'm sure by now you're absolutely ravenous, so let's eat."

"Remember our first date?" Erin asked, taking a bite of her steak.

"Every word," John replied, smiling reminiscently.

"Oh, really," Erin said, raising one eyebrow skeptically. "What did I say my favorite movie was?"

"Kill Bill Vol. 1 or any of the Fast and the Furious movies," John replied immediately. "But you also like Inglorious Basterds and Sherlock Holmes. And you love anything by Tolkien, your favorite colors are turquoise and cerulean, and you speak Arabic fluently but know enough to get by in French, Spanish, German, and Russian."

"Okay, okay, I believe you," Erin laughed. "Consider me sufficiently amazed. But for my part, I remember that your favorite color is forest green, and you love Fist of the North Star and the original Die Hard. And you didn't tell me what your favorite book is, but you did release a CD a few years back. Which I bought and listened to, by the way."

"And?" John prompted.

"And I loved it and was incredibly impressed," Erin told him, smiling. "I think you should work on releasing another CD, honestly. The WWE universe alone would love it."

"I'd definitely consider it," John said thoughtfully. "And this time, it might take me less than two years to write enough songs."

"Why's that?" Erin asked, puzzled.

"Because I've got a muse this time," he replied simply, leaning across the table to kiss her. Erin smiled up at him. "So the other day, when you were playing with Christian and Morrison—that song meant something to you, didn't it? 'Hey Ya'?" Erin looked down for a moment, remembering.

"That was the first song Aiden taught me how to play," she said softly. "I used to—I used to wish that it actually applied to my family, that my parents actually loved each other and all. But when I realized that would never happen, I wished that someday, I could sing it to somebody and it would actually fit, and they'd know what it meant." John didn't answer her, just leaned across the table to kiss her again.

"Ready for dessert?" he asked finally, sitting back down.

"Are you going to tell me what it is yet?" she asked patiently. John chuckled, uncovering the plate at the center of the table.

"Tiramisu," Erin realized, smiling. John moved his chair over until he sat beside her, holding the plate in one hand. He took a small sample of the dessert onto the fork, and Erin reached for it.

"No, no," he said teasingly. "I will be feeding the new World Heavyweight Champion, thank you very much." Erin blushed as he brought the small portion of tiramisu to her lips. Her mouth opened slowly, temptingly, and John placed the bite inside. Erin closed her eyes, smiling, enjoying the sensation, and John leaned close to kiss her, as though trying to taste the dessert on her lips.

"Are you stealing my tiramisu?" she demanded, mock-angry, though she was laughing.

"No, you're sharing it," John said innocently. "Involuntarily." Erin smiled up at him, and John chuckled, offering her a second bite. Erin shook her head, plucking the fork from his fingers.

"My turn," she informed him, placing the bite between his lips. John smiled, leaning over to kiss her as soon as he was finished. This time, his lips lingered on hers, and Erin leaned into him.

"Maybe we should save dessert for another time," John suggested, his voice low. Erin's smile was sweet but with a decidedly wicked edge, and John took the upturned curve of her lips as a silent yes. He lifted her effortlessly, the hem of her dress trailing over her bare feet as he carried her into the bedroom. He set her down on the bed, his gaze intense as he cupped her check with one hand.

"I think I want to kiss you right now," he informed her quietly.

"I think you need to stop talking and just do—" Erin started. John silenced her with a kiss that was long and sweet and lingering, the kind that nearly made her heart nearly stop and her breath catch in her throat. She melted as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him as his lips moved to her throat, trailing soft kisses down to her collarbone.

"Wait," Erin whispered. John stopped, concerned. Erin rose slowly, still resting against his chest. She looked straight into his eyes as she undid the zipper on the back of her dress, letting the garment fall to the floor. John's eyes were dark with desire as she unbuttoned his shirt slowly, running her hands over his chest before pushing it over his shoulders. Her smile has half-shy, half-mischievous as she backed away, pulling him after her by his beltloops. John's laughter was a low, husky rumble against her chest, making her shiver as he drew her hands free, raising them until he could kiss the soft skin on the inside of her wrists. Erin let out that breathless, shivering sigh that drove him crazy. John backed her against the wall, pinning both wrists over her head as he captured her lips with his once more. His free hand slid from her neck to her hip, caressing every inch of skin in between before wrapping her slender leg around his waist.

He brushed feather-light kisses along her jawline before descending to her throat, sucking lightly on the soft skin there. Erin sighed softly, her whole body pressing against his as she arched into him, her head falling back. John bore her down to the bed, suspending himself over her on his forearms.

"So how long—how long can you hold yourself up like that?" Erin asked breathlessly.

"As long as you need, love," John whispered, silencing her with a long, hot kiss that left her flushed with heat, her heart racing against his chest. His lips made his way down her neck once more before descending to the smooth skin of her stomach. Erin gasped, her hair spilling over the pillow as John looked up at her, a wicked smile on his lips. Her legs intertwined with his as he rolled her over, and Erin lay against his chest, her breath coming back slowly. John was breathing heavily beneath her, and she sighed contentedly.

"I thought I was supposed to take it easy today," she said finally. John chuckled.

"It's all your fault," he informed her sternly. "You're damn irresistible."

"It's one of my many charms," Erin said cheerfully, still mostly breathless. "Along with an inability to shut up and the temper of the Irish."

"I thought I managed to silence you pretty well," John teased. Erin chuckled.

"That you did, love," she agreed, her eyelids fluttering shut. She blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake.

"If I'm as exhausted as I am, I can only imagine how you're feeling right now," John said, craning his neck to look down at her. Erin smiled ruefully, her response dissolving into a yawn. "I'll take that as an 'I'm ready for bed too', shall I?" Erin nodded, and John chuckled, tilting her chin up so that he could kiss her soundly. "Goodnight, beautiful."

"Goodnight, love," Erin whispered, relaxing against him as she drifted off to sleep.

A/N: Long-ish chapter! I tried to balance things out a bit. Also, I'm absolutely rubbish at writing romantic scenes (blame my lack of a love life), but I did my best anyway. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Read and review, please!


	37. Don't Be a Doormat

Erin managed to wake up without screaming in pain the next day, though she passed on her morning run in favor of a lower-impact swimming workout. John was awake by the time she got back, setting out breakfast for the both of them as soon as she walked through the door.

"How about some Fruit Loops to get your Monday morning started right?" he suggested. "Everybody needs some sugary goodness every now and then. Are you seeing the doctor today?"

"Dr. Porcelan and Kat both want to check me out, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be cleared for tonight," Erin replied regretfully. "That's okay. I'll be happy just to be there."

"With your shiny new title?" John prompted. Erin grinned.

"Yes, with my shiny new title," she agreed. "In fact, me and my shiny new title just might grab ourselves a seat with Jerry and Michael, if Steph lets me."

"I'm sure she won't mind," John assured her. "Besides, you're better than Cole any day. Guy's a pompous, biased asshole." Erin laughed. "Need a lift over to the stadium?"

"Motorcycle probably wouldn't be a good idea with this ankle," she said, shrugging. "Might be a little hard to shift gears. And I do love that pretty little '09 Corvette ZR1 of yours."

"It's so sexy when you talk cars," John informed her, and Erin grinned. "Got any other plans for the morning?"

"I know there's workouts today, but I don't think it'd be the best idea for me to try them," Erin remarked. "I might just go stretch for a while y'all lift. I don't need to be over to see Kat and Dr. Porcelan until this afternoon anyway."

"How's two o'clock sound?" John offered. "We'll get over there around 2:30, give you plenty of time to talk to the doctor before any of the pre-show stuff gets started."

"Sounds good to me—I'm going to grab a shower," Erin replied cheerfully. "No, you may not join me." John laughed at that, shaking his head as he cleared their breakfast dishes. Erin spent a good half hour in the shower, steaming up the entire bathroom. Her muscles felt slightly better by the time she was done, and she slipped into her cargo pants and a Marines t-shirt without any pain.

"Ready to go?" John asked. Erin nodded, stepping into her sneakers quickly. John held her gym bag over one shoulder, leading the way down to the car. "Now, I think we're doing upper body today, but Evan's got some busted ribs and Yoshi's got a concussion, so they might join you on the stretching."

"Oh, good—it's so much more boring when you have to stretch by yourself," Erin said, relieved, as she slid into the passenger seat. "And I really need somebody to help me stretch my hamstrings, because I can't reach far enough by myself."

"I'm sure they'd be glad to help you out with that," John chuckled. "What do you want to listen to?"

"Want to put your CD on?" Erin suggested. John grinned, putting the disk in. He couldn't help but laugh at her seat-dancing moves, which lasted the length of the trip.

"We're here, Ginger Rogers," he teased. Erin stuck her tongue out at him, swinging herself out of the car. John carried her bag inside, tucking it away in one of the cubbyholes and kissing her swiftly before getting to his workout.

"You on the stretch crew too?" Evan called out as she walked in. Erin laughed, joining him and Yoshi. Evan sported a brace around his ribs, and Yoshi waved cheerfully from his position on the ground.

"Somehow, I thought lifting might not be in my best interests today," she said wryly. "I'm not sure whether it was the bruises, the ankle, the ribs, or John that convinced me."

"Some combination of all four," Evan suggested, and Erin grinned. "So do we want to stretch top to bottom or bottom to top?"

"Let's start at the top and work our way down to the bottom," Erin said. "Although I have no idea how to stretch my arms."

"Well, we should start with neck stuff anyway," Evan replied. "But I've got some good arm and shoulder stuff too."

They made quite the odd trio, alternating turns as the stretchers and the stretched. Evan couldn't help but laugh at the stares Erin received while doing one of her leg stretches—she was in a full split, and Yoshi had to bend her back leg in order for her to get a full stretch.

Lunch was a casual affair, and all of the superstars who'd gone to the gym made a trip out to Applebee's. Erin beat John in a best two-out-of-three rock-paper-scissors battle for who got to shower first, and she took a long, hot soak before finally getting out. John tossed a few good-natured jokes at her about girls taking longer in the shower, but Erin just laughed, braiding her hair and tidying up the room as she waited for him to be ready.

"I'd offer to let you drive, but I think depressing the clutch might be hard on that ankle," John said. Erin nodded regretfully. "Don't worry. I'll let you drive as soon as you're cleared."

"Fine by me," Erin agreed, bouncing into the front seat. "Let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner Dr. Porcelan can tell me I can wrestle again."

'Yes, ma'am," John drawled, peeling out of the parking lot. The stadium bustled with activity—workers doing setup, sound techs prepping the mics, assistants rushing around frantically—but John and Erin arrived in the athletic training room to find it practically empty.

"Oh, good—I get the place all to myself," Erin remarked cheerfully. "Hi, Dr. Porcelan. Hey, Kat."

"Well, if it isn't my favorite injury-prone star," Dr. Porcelan remarked. "Come on over here. Let's see how bad you're beat up this time."

"I woke up without screaming today," Erin said proudly. "And I stretched with Evan and Yoshi, and that didn't hurt too bad either."

"Well, let's have a look at you then," Dr. Porcelan laughed. Erin stepped out of her cargo pants and folded them neatly, shrugging out of her t-shirt and doing the same before taking a seat on the table in her underwear and sports bra. John whistled appreciatively, and Erin blushed. Dr. Porcelan just shook her head, starting her examination at Erin's neck. She fretted over a few of the bruises, clucked disapprovingly at what she felt when she palpated Erin's ribcage, frowned at the swelling around Erin's knee, and was not in the least bit happy about what she felt in Erin's ankle.

"So how bad am I, Doc?" Erin asked. Dr. Porcelan sighed.

"I'm giving you an air cast for that ankle, and you'll have to have it wrapped for the next few months whenever you wrestle or work out," she began. "The swelling around your hip socket should go down soon, but I want you icing every hour for 20 minutes. And those ribs—well, you're lucky none of them are cracked, but they're almost all pretty badly bruised. I'll wrap those, and I expect you to come in and get wrapped before every match. And I'm giving you a brace for that right knee. I want you wearing it while you walk for the next week, and after that for wrestling and working out. I'm pretty sure you've got a few small tears in your meniscus, but from what I can feel, your cruciate and collateral ligaments are fine. We'll need an MRI to confirm. I got you an appointment for tomorrow." She slipped the air cast onto Erin's ankle, tightening it until her ankle was firmly supported. The knee brace went on her opposite knee once she was dressed, and Dr. Porcelan helped her down.

"So if it's just meniscal tears, I can get you started on physical therapy by Friday," Kat added. "Same goes for the ankle. It's best that you take a few days off, but come back in before Smackdown and we'll get you going with that, alright?"

"You got it," Erin said cheerfully. "Want me to go find Steph and tell her?"

"If it's not a bother, that'd be great," Kat replied gratefully. "Abe's out sick today, and Christian needs to get reevaluated."

"No problem," Erin laughed. "I'll see you later, alright?" She stepped into her combat boots, tying them quickly before heading out to find Steph. For once, the General Manager was easy enough to find, poring over paperwork in her office. "Hey, busy lady. How're you doing?"

"Pretty good, actually," Steph remarked, not even looking up as she scribbled several figures on a post-it note. "What's up?"

"I'm not cleared to wrestle until at least next week," Erin informed her regretfully. "Randy did more damage than I thought, I guess."

"Alright, so no wrestling for you tonight, but you do need to make a State of the Championship address," Stephanie informed her cheerfully. Erin looked at her, taken aback.

"I have to what?" she demanded.

"Make a State of the World Heavyweight Championship address, Erin, it's no big deal, I promise," Stephanie assured her. "Head down to costume and makeup. Daddy wants you to wear a either a dress or a suit, if you really don't want to wear a dress."

"I will _not_ be wearing a suit," Erin said stubbornly. "And I won't be wearing a dress, either. Beth said she wanted to come see Raw tonight. I can ask her to bring my dress blues."

"Dress blues?" Stephanie asked.

"Dark blue jacket with red piping, royal blue pants, polished shoes, white cap, all my medals," Erin described. "It's the official dress uniform of the Marines."

"What medals do you have?" Stephanie asked, curious.

"Marine Corps Medal, Marine Expeditionary Medal, Marine Corps Good Conduct Medal, Marine Corps Presidential Unit Citation, Combat Action Ribbon, Marine Corps Overseas Service Ribbon, Purple Heart Medal, Prisoner of War Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal, and an Afghanistan Campaign Medal," Erin ticked off. She texted Beth quickly, smiling at the response, looking up and realizing that Stephanie was staring at her. "What?"

"That's a lot of medals," Stephanie remarked. Erin shrugged, embarrassed.

"My squad was involved in a lot of reconnaissance and rescue missions," she said by way of explanation. "And Beth says she'll be here in 10."

"Maybe you can think about what you want to say in the meantime," Stephanie suggested. "Come find me before you go out, alright?" Erin nodded absently, running over what she might say in her head as she waited for Beth. She twisted her hair into a French-braided chignon that kept hair just above the nape of her neck. Her friend was there in moments, bouncing down the hallway cheerfully, Ted behind her with Erin's dress blues on a hanger over one shoulder.

"Thanks," Erin said gratefully, ducking into the bathroom to change. When she returned, she looked every inch the military hero, from the tips of her shoes to the perfectly square set of her shoulders. "I think I'm ready—I should go talk to Steph."

"We'll be just backstage," Beth promised. "Good luck!" Erin waved, making her way to Stephanie's office and knocking swiftly before entering.

"Well, don't you look all spiffy," Stephanie said teasingly. "Ready for your first address?"

"I think so," Erin replied, taking off her cap and tucking it under one arm. Her belt lay over her left shoulder, leaving her medals bared. "How long should it be?"

"Five, maybe ten, minutes?" Stephanie suggested. "You should head out there. We go on air in five."

"You got it, boss," Erin smiled. Stephanie waved absently, returning to her paperwork as Erin left.

"Hey, it's the champ!" Steve called as Erin made her way towards the ramp. Erin laughed, keeping her cap under one arm. "Congrats, kiddo."

"Thanks, Steve," Erin said gratefully. "And thanks for those snapdragons, by the way. I'm saving them for New Years, but I can't wait."

"If you need any fireworks, just let me know—we can hook you up," Steve promised. He touched his headset, listening to instructions. "Alright, they're cueing your music. Go get 'em."

Erin saluted, settling her cap back on her head as she made her way out onto the ramp to thunderous applause. She saluted proudly, marching in perfect lockstep to the ring. She tucked her cap under one arm as she accepted a microphone, and the crowd quieted slowly.

"So I was told that I have to give a State of the World Heavyweight Championship address," she began. "I've never been all that good at making speeches, and that's probably not going to change anytime soon." The crowd chuckled, and Erin relaxed ever-so-slightly. "But I would be in remiss if I didn't begin with thanks, and I really, really hope I don't forget anybody. I want to thank you guys, of course, for all your support and encouragement. I wouldn't have gotten off that mat without you. And I never would have survived in a match like that without all the help I got from my fellow Raw and SmackDown superstars. Everyone from Triple H to Rey Mysterio really helped me get my footing—literally and figuratively—and I'm incredibly grateful to all of them. To any of the guys on my squad who are watching—you know I wouldn't have gotten up from that RKO without you guys, even if you had to resort to calling me "Baby Girl" to get me angry enough to do it." There were a few more laughs from the crowd as Erin went on. "And of course, I can't go without thanking my best friend, Beth Phoenix, because without her I wouldn't even be here, and my wonderful, amazing boyfriend John Cena, because he's incredible and words wouldn't ever do him justice." That brought some wolf-whistles from the pyrotechnics crew, and Erin laughed. "I've been thinking about how far I've come since I got here, and I remember what I said when I gave a mini-speech on SmackDown. I said that I couldn't stand for injustice, or prejudice, or people ignoring when things were wrong in the world, and that I'd take on the most dangerous wrestlers in the WWE if needed to right those wrongs. So ladies and gentlemen of the WWE—" She lowered her microphone, raising the championship belt overhead. The stadium was on its feet immediately, filling with thunderous applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, once more—your World Heavyweight Champion, the G.I. Jane, Erin Harris!" Matt Striker announced. Erin saluted proudly, adjusting the belt over her shoulder as she turned to leave the ring.

Instead, she felt a sharp pain between her shoulderblades as someone's boot struck her spine, knocking her face-first into the mats. She shook her head, dazed, pushing herself up on her forearms as she tried to rise. The same boot stayed planted on her spine, and as hard as she pushed, she could not get up.

"That title should be mine," someone growled, and Erin recognized the characteristic lisp of Jack Swagger. "I was robbed of that World Heavyweight Championship, but I am the All-American American. I had a perfect 4.0 GPA at the University of Oklahoma, I took the WWE by storm, and I deserve that title. Not some girl in a monkey suit whose biggest talents are following orders and talking pretty." The pressure on her back eased ever so slightly, and Erin exploded to her feet, shoving upwards with all of her strength and throwing Jack off-balance. She took out his legs with a sweeping kick, standing over him, chest heaving as she tried to control her anger.

"You can say whatever you want about me, because the blathering of a blowbag could mean less to me," she said, her voice cold, shaking with anger. "But if you ever insult the U.S. Marine Corps—or so much as touch this uniform again—I wouldn't bet on you being in any kind of condition to ever wrestle again. Ever." Erin shouldered her belt once more, ducking out of the ring before she could do something she'd regret later.

John was waiting backstage for her, his expression somewhere between righteous anger and unsurprised amusement. Without a word, he brushed off the back of her jacket, smoothing it down for her.

"You alright?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," Erin said ruefully, trying to smile. "I've never had to take the whole 'Don't tread on me' thing literally before." The bark of laughter that escaped John echoed loudly enough to startle several of the other superstars backstage, and Erin couldn't help but smile.

"Do you have any matches tonight?" John asked. Erin shook her head.

"Steph gave me the night off—said my body had had enough of a beating to last me a few weeks," she explained. "She said I'll be back on the roster next week, but she wants me to rest this week. Who do you have?"

"Well, since I took a little less of a beating in my match—" Erin snorted with laughter at that, but John just went on. "Since I didn't take as bad a beating, I'm fighting Zack. I actually requested the match, because he kept harassing the Bellas."

"See, this is why all the Divas are jealous," Erin replied, kissing his cheek. "You're gorgeous AND a gentleman."

"Oh, you're only saying that because it's true," John said teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Are you wearing your uniform the rest of the night?"

"No, it's only for special occasions," Erin replied. "Back to jeans and a t-shirt for me. Need a valet for the night?"

"As long as it's you, absolutely," John said, smiling as they paused at the door of her locker room. "Go ahead. I'll wait for you." Erin ducked into her room, folding her uniform carefully before putting it away. Her cargo pants and t-shirt where right where she had left him, but she was only half-dressed when the door slammed open.

"I thought you said you'd wai—oh, hi, Steph," Erin said, shaking her head, amused. "Any particular reason you're bursting into my locker room unannounced?"

"Sorry, sorry," Stephanie said, holding up her clipboard to hide her face. "Not looking, see? I just wanted to see if you're okay. I saw what Jack did."

"Nothing hurt but my pride," Erin promised. "I'd love a match against him when you get a chance, though."

"Well, the next week's matches are all scheduled out, but I could probably get you something the week after," Stephanie offered. "Would that work?"

"Sure," Erin replied, wriggling into her pants. "Okay. I'm clothed now."

"Sorry about that," Stephanie said again, though she was laughing. "I really wasn't thinking."

"It's fine, Steph," Erin laughed. "I'm heading out with John. Go forth and manage."

"It's what I do best," Stephanie replied, winking at Erin as she held open the door.

"Yes, we know," John said dryly. Stephanie stuck her tongue out at him, and Erin giggled as she slipped her arm through his.

"So if I'm going as your valet, do I get to dress up sexy?" Erin asked. John looked excited at the prospect, and Erin laughed. "I'll go see Sherry in wardrobe."

Sherry was as excited to see Erin as ever, heading to the clothing racks and grabbing a pair of fitted skinny jeans and a dark blue top, loose and floaty with a smocked neckline that slipped off both shoulders, sheer sleeves covering the bruises on her arms. Sherry even had a pair of boots that fit over her air cast, and the knee brace went over her jeans before she headed back upstairs.

"Damn, girl!" Kelly Kelly catcalled as she passed by. Erin laughed, striking a quick pose. "Let me guess—you're John's valet for the night?"

"Why, however did you know?" Erin teased. Kelly giggled, hugging her friend before sending her on her way. John's expression when he saw her outfit brought a smile to her face, which he promptly wiped away with a long, slow kiss that left her breathless.

"You look absolutely amazing," he informed her, smiling slowly. "I may be ever-so-slightly distracted during my match."

"Well, that wouldn't be good," Erin objected.

"Did I say distracted? I meant motivated. To get the match over with as quickly as possible and get you back to the hotel," John amended, grinning down at her. Erin laughed.

"Alright, love," she agreed. "Should we get to your match, then?"

"I do believe Mr. Ryder needs a good ass-kicking," John said mock-solemnly, offering his arm. Erin took it cheerfully, following him out.

A/N: Another long chapter! I spoil you. I must like y'all or something. I wanted to have a bit of fun with this chapter, so I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write. Read and review, please!


	38. Reconnect

Despite beginning physical therapy before that week's Smackdown, Dr. Porcelan informed Erin that she would need another week off before being able to compete. Steph signed off on a week's worth of vacation for both her and John, telling her that if she had to stay home for a week, she might as well enjoy herself.

"Technically speaking, I don't have a home," Erin remarked.

"I'd say come back to my place, but it's getting fumigated this week—I had bedbugs, apparently," John replied regretfully. "But how about we take a week in a nice hotel someplace—maybe Vegas, or San Fran?"

"Actually, um…I got an invitation from the New York Yankees to throw out the first pitch in their game on Tuesday," Erin said, smiling. "Maybe we could go to NYC?"

"You get to throw out the first pitch?" John asked, excited. "Erin, that's fantastic! New York City sounds like a great plan. I'll call the Millenium Hilton; get us a nice suite."

"Fine by me," Erin laughed. "I'll start packing."

As it turned out, Erin only had two very minor tears in her meniscus, and Kat gave her a take-home therapy program to start on her week off. John had been happy to help her in her with the exercises and stretches, even giving her a back massage when she started to cramp up.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, here to throw out the first pitch—WWE Superstar and native New Yorker Erin Harris!"

Erin waved, appearing on the Jumbotron as she stepped out onto the field. John had been helping her practice her throws all week, but the white-knuckled grip she had on the baseball belied her nervousness.

"God, don't let me throw like a girl," she whispered. John, watching from just behind home plate, smothered a chuckle. Erin wound up and tossed a pitch that, while it wasn't anything to be blown away by, did make a satisfyingly loud smack as hit soared into the catcher's mitt. She smiled, relieved, as she waved to the crowd, and the catcher jogged out to present her with the ball.

"Not a bad pitch, for your first ever," he informed her, grinning.

"Thanks," Erin said, smiling in reply. "And good luck!" She trotted off the field to echoing applause. John met her as she left the field, and they stopped for hot dogs and soda before heading to their seats.

Erin, having no background in baseball whatsoever was content to let John explain the game to her. The game went into an extra inning before the Yankees finally drove in one last homer.

"Ready to head out?" John asked. Erin nodded, stretching slowly as she rose. They joined the flood of fans heading out into the parking lot.

"Hey, Erin!" a raspy voice called. Erin looked around, trying to find the speaker. When she caught sight of him—an older man, disheveled, a bottle of whiskey in one hand—her face went dead white, and she clutched John's hand so tightly he could hear his bones creaking as they ground together. He honestly wasn't sure whether she was about to faint or about to attack the man.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal daughter," he remarked, his voice a drinker's heavy rasp. "What, no hug for dear old dad?" Erin didn't speak, and John pulled her closer, stepping forward defensively. "Looks like I taught you good," he said, ignoring her discomfort. "Your right hook's a little weaker than mine, but you knew that already, didn't you?" Erin flinched, and John caught her arm instinctively.

"Not worth it, love," he reminded her quietly. Her father sneered. "And you," John rumbled, looking more than ready to lay Erin's father out himself. "If you know what's good for you, you'll turn around right now and never come near her again." Erin's father laughed, the sound dissolving into a wheezing cough.

"What are you going to do, juicehead?" he demanded, still wheezing. "You going to fight a defenseless old town drunk?"

"Defenseless, my ass," Erin growled, speaking up at last. "And he doesn't need to. I'll do it myself."

"And promptly got arrested," her father replied, almost cheerful in his malevolence. "Go right ahead, sweet pea."

"Hey!" someone yelled. The speaker was an out-of-breath older woman, her eyes snapping. "Get the hell away from her."

"Mom?" Erin managed, looking at the woman wide-eyed.

"Just a minute, dear," her mother said absently, rummaging through her purse. "Ah. Here it is: 'Michael James Harris, hereafter to be referred to as "subject," must maintain a minimum distance of 500 yards from Ms. Rachel Marie Carter, formerly Mrs. Rachel Marie Harris, and Ms. Erin Brigid Harris at all times.'" She looked up, glancing pointedly at the distance—or lack thereof—between them. All pretense of civility left her face as she added, "So get your drunk ass out of here, or you'll be in jail for the next eight years."

Michael glared at her for a moment, but she regarded him coolly, arms crossed, completely unintimidated. With a growl, he left, taking a swig from his bottle as he did. Rachel turned back to Erin, her face softening as she took in her daughter's expression. She reached out one hand to brush Erin's cheek, pulling back hesitantly at the last second.

"Hello, dear," she said finally. Erin bit her lip, trying not to cry. "You could have called and said you were in state, you know. Instead of letting me find out from the papers."

"I thought _he'd_ answer," Erin replied quietly. "I couldn't—I didn't—"

"Divorced for three years," Rachel replied, tears in her eyes, looking almost nervous. There was a moment's pause, and then Erin was in her arms, crying her heart out into her mother's shoulder. "Oh, Erin-go-bragh," she whispered. "It's alright. It's alright."

John stood beside them protectively, glaring at anyone who got too close or looked at them oddly. Eventually, Erin's sobs gave way to sniffles, then slow, deep breaths.

"I missed you, Mom," she said, hugging her tightly. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, sweetheart," Rachel replied, wiping several tears of her own away. She turned to John, though she kept Erin's hand in hers. "And you must be John."

"Yes, ma'am," John said politely, shaking her free hand.

"Oh, call me Rachel," she insisted. "Now. Are you staying at a hotel for the weekend?"

"The whole week," Erin replied. "We have off, so we were just planning to rest and laze around." Rachel looked skeptical at the idea that her daughter would ever so much as consider resting and lazing around, but smiled.

"Well, if you have the week off, I'll not have you at any hotel, nice or not," she informed her daughter. "I've got a new place. Come stay with me."

"We'd love to," Erin said, her smile brilliant. "Right, John?"

"I'd love to," John promised her, kissing her cheek swiftly. "Tell you what—you ride home with your mom. Just give me the address, and I'll pack up your stuff and drive up and meet you. You guys deserve a chance to catch up uninterrupted."

"Are you sure?" Erin started. John silenced her with a thorough kiss.

"Yes, I'm sure," he laughed. "Go ahead. I'll see you soon."

"He seems like a good guy," Rachel remarked as John walked away. Erin smiled.

"He's perfect," she replied, standing somewhat awkwardly. "So…where are you living now?"

"I bought a little beach cottage on Jones Point," Rachel said, tucking her arm through her daughter's. "Just enough room for me and Maxwell the Second."

"You got another Max?" Erin asked, excited. Rachel laughed.

"I went to the same breeder, and she managed to find me a Siberian Husky with those same green eyes," she replied. "I swear, he could have been Maxwell's twin. So I named him Maxwell the Second."

"I can't wait to meet him," Erin said, sliding into the passenger seat of her mother's old '67 Chevy Impala. "And I can't believe you still drive this thing."

"This baby is a classic," Rachel reminded her daughter, laughing. "You know you love it."

"Yeah, I do," Erin admitted. "So how—how have you been, Mama?"

"Much better," Rachel said quietly, looking over at her daughter. "Sweetheart, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am that I didn't leave your father sooner and take you with me. I was such a coward for so many years—I let him hurt you for so long, and—"

"It's not your fault, Mama," Erin said gently. "It never was. It was only ever his, and I could have left too."

"I was your _mother_," Rachel whispered fiercely. "I was supposed to protect you."

"You did," Erin told her softly. "Every time you sent me to school, or to sleep over at Beth's house, or to a self-defense class—Mama, you did protect me, and you did a damn good job of it. Just look at where I am now!"

"Well, I guess you are ever-so-slightly successful, at this point," Rachel remarked, managing a small half-smile. Erin leaned over, hugging her mother tightly. "I've watched every one of your shows, and you're absolutely amazing. And Beth—I'm sure she's sick and tired of hearing from me. I used to write to her every week, because I knew you wrote to her. She used to tell me just enough to keep me from getting too worried, but I know she didn't tell me everything. I didn't care, as long as I knew you were alright." Erin sat back, buckling her seat belt h her mother pulled out of the parking lot.

"So I guess she told you about Randy, then," Erin said cautiously. Rachel nodded, not taking her eyes off the road.

"If you hadn't taken him out that first match, I was going to fly out and punch him myself," she told her daughter. Erin snickered. "You're only laughing because you know it's true."

"Of course, Mama," Erin grinned. "Actually, I was picturing Randy's face if you were to punch him."

"I imagine his face would be slightly squashed," Rachel mused, a small smirk on her face. Erin dissolved into laughter at that, shaking her head.

"This is why you were always the coolest mom," Erin remarked. Her face softened as she looked over at her mother. "Oh, Mama, I missed you."

"I missed you too, peanut," Rachel replied gently, holding Erin's hand across the console. "I'm so glad you'll be staying with me, even if it's only for a week."

"Me, too," Erin whispered, and the two fell silent.

"Want to put some music on?" Rachel asked finally. "I got some of our old favorites on CD. We can sing along, if you want."

"I'd love to, Mama," Erin said immediately. Rachel smiled, sliding a disk into the player, and Erin grinned as "Build Me Up Buttercup" began to play. She rolled down the windows as her mother turned the radio up, blasting the song as the two began to sing along. The passengers in the cars they passed as they continued to drive gave them some strange looks, but the two were far too happy to be bothered.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I'm actually a Phillies fan, but she's from New York. She kinda has to like the Yankees. Or the Mets. It's practically a law in New York. Anyway, thought I'd introduce some more fluffiness into the picture, and I should be able to do some fun stuff with Erin's mom in the picture. Read and review, please!


	39. Remember

Rachel and Erin stayed up half the night reminiscing and crying. John finally gave in and went to bed around two, half-waking when Erin crawled into bed around four. Erin managed to stay awake long enough to kiss him swiftly before falling asleep in his arms, her head on his chest. It was nearly noon by the time she woke up, bleary-eyed and still drowsy, but she made her way to the kitchen nonetheless, drawn by the delicious odor emanating from the small room.

Her mother was bustling around the kitchen, her ancient radio playing Benny Goodman from its perch on the windowsill as she flitted between the table and the oven, humming along. She glanced up as Erin came in, her face lighting up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she teased. Erin smiled, hugging her mother.

"Morning, Mama," she said, yawning. Rachel laughed.

"I made madelines," Rachel said cheerfully. "I know they're your favorite. And yes, we can watch the Transporter afterwards." Erin laughed.

"You remembered," she remarked, smiling. Rachel bent down to kiss her forehead.

"Of course I did," Rachel said fondly. "Why don't you go wake John and we can all have breakfast and a movie?"

"Alright," Erin said, hugging her mother as she walked by. Rachel watched her go, still smiling.

John was dead to the world, completely covered by the thick, fluffy comforter. Erin bit back a giggle at his position, sliding under the covers to straddle him.

"Good morning," she whispered, bending down to kiss him. John groaned, mumbling something inaudible. Erin laughed softly, running her hands along his torso. "Come on, love. My mom made breakfast, and she's got my favorite movie ready to play."

"Five more minutes," John mumbled.

"Come on, love—" Erin urged. John cut her off by grabbing her wrist and rolling over, pinning her beneath them and quite literally squashing her protests. Erin squirmed, trying to push him off, but John caught her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist—the one place she couldn't resist. "Cheater," she grumbled, the sound turning into a gasp as he made his way along her arm.

"You were saying?" he asked, eyes dancing wickedly. Erin smacked his arm.

"Breakfast. Movie. Mother," she reiterated. "Prat." John just laughed, kissing her soundly before helping her up.

"So do you want to take a nap in the hammock later?" she asked, bouncing down the stairs.

"Only if you promise not to flip it," John teased. Erin shook her head resignedly, almost knocking the tray from her mother's hands as she rounded the kitchen corner and ran straight into her.

"The last time you did that, you were running late for senior prom," Rachel laughed, managing to catch the tray just in time. Erin smiled sheepishly as John steadied her. "Except it was a pot of spaghetti sauce I was carrying, and it got all over your dress—"

"—and I ended up wearing your wedding gown, because you—" Erin cut in.

"Got married in purple to annoy the rest of the family!" the two chorused. They burst into giggles, and John stared back and forth between the two of them, amused.

"Want to see her prom pictures?" Rachel asked cheerfully.

"Mom!" Erin complained, rolling her eyes. Rachel laughed as Erin slipped the DVD in, setting out the madelines and pulling a photo album from a drawer.

"I'm showing them anyway, because you look gorgeous in them," Rachel informed her before turning to John. "She was going to go stag, but the boys in her brothers squad told her that she deserved the perfect prom night. So Aiden's patrol partner took her, and they all chipped in to get her a limo and everything."

"I was their adopted little sister," Erin said, smiling reminiscently. She settled onto the couch between John and her mother, grabbing a handful of madelines. "Sergeant Remy LeBeau, that was his name. From New Orleans."

"They're such nice boys, all of them," Rachel said fondly. "They helped me move down here so I didn't have to pay a company."

"They always liked you, mama," Erin reminded her. "You were like their squad mom. Plus, you made the best cookies."

"Still do," Rachel told her daughter, as John flipped through the photo album.

"I could swear I've seen a dress exactly like this one," he mused, looking at Erin's plum-colored gown. He snapped his fingers as he remembered. "It looks just like the one from Casino Royale!" Erin peered at it more closely and burst out laughing.

"I look like Vesper!" she said, sounding incredibly excited about that fact.

"No way," John told her. "You're way sexier." Rachel cleared her throat loudly, and Erin blushed.

"Oh, look—the movie's starting!" she said hastily, changing the subject quickly. "Who's ready to watch?" John just laughed, taking a madeline for himself.

"She's right—you do make the best cookies," he told Rachel. Rachel flapped her hand at him, blushing, and John hid a smile at the resemblance between mother and daughter as they settled down to watch the movie.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, it's a really short chapter. I'll put an extra-long one in soon to make up for it, I promise, because I love you all so much. Read and review, please!


	40. Speak Up

Looking back, Erin could scarcely remember a week in which she'd been happier. They'd made the lunchtime picnic a daily occurrence, and she spent every possible minute with her mother. John had been incredibly understanding, content to let her reconnect with her mother as much as possible. The three of them had visited the local lighthouses, gone shopping, even gone parasailing together. John, upon finding out that her mother lived at the beach and didn't know how to fish, took the opportunity to teach both of them, resulting in an impromptu campfire barbeque on the beach that, when noticed by the other beachgoers, turned into a singalong, complete with several guitars (someone even found a spare that they let Erin play). As hard as it had been to leave, Erin felt incredibly renewed as she and John landed in Detroit the morning of Raw, and she spent her day being incredibly productive—she finished several software algorithms, mailed letters to the members of her company still in Fallujah, fixed the seams on the cargo pants she wore for matches, and made turkey sandwiches for her, John, Beth, and Ted—which they all promptly devoured. And by the time they arrived at the stadium, Erin was more than ready to wrestle again.

"Welcome back, Erin!" Stephanie called. Erin turned, smiling, as she hugged the older woman. "Hey—I only just got the news, but Daddy scheduled you for a title defense tonight, and your opponent is going to be picked by tonight's guest host." Erin shrugged.

"Well, I had to do it eventually," she said, resigned. "Who's the guest host? Do I actually have a shot at a good opponent?"

"Now, you really don't think I'd screw you over, do you?" a familiar voice asked. Erin turned, grinning as she saw Mickie James standing there, hands on her hips. "That just ain't me, G.I. Jane." Erin laughed as Mickie came over, hugging her quickly. "And for the record, I decided to go high-flying with tonight's match—you're defending your title against Evan Bourne."

"Oh, that'll be fun!" Erin said, sounding excited at the prospect. "Does he know?"

"Yeah, I just told him," Mickie chuckled. "You should head down to staging. You guys are the opening match, and Justin will introduce the match as soon as I take the seat next to Mike and Jerry."

"Man, I wish Mike's name was Tom," Erin said absently. "How awesome would it be to say Raw's announcers are Tom and Jerry?" Mickie looked at her for a moment before bursting into laughter, and Erin grinned sheepishly.

"Girl, I don't know where you come up with what comes out of your mouth, but keep it coming," Mickie said finally, wiping away tears of laughter. "I'll see you in a bit, alright?" Erin nodded, ducking into her locker room to change before making her way to the ramp, waiting just backstage as Mickie received a warm welcome from the crowd.

"Howdy, Detroit!" she called. The crowd cheered, and Erin smiled backstage. "I am so incredibly excited to be back tonight! Y'all might have heard that I'm working on a country album, it comes out in February—" She paused as the crowd applauded her once more, smiling. "That's right. But I'm here tonight, back in the WWE, to guest host Raw. And I don't want to hold you up from the matches, especially since our first match is such an exciting one—a World Heavyweight Championship title defense between Erin Harris and Evan Bourne!"

The stadium nearly shook with the volume of the cheers that rose from the crowd, and Erin cracked her knuckles.

"Hey, Erin—good luck," Evan called, rolling out his neck as he came up to the ramp.

"You too, Evan," Erin smiled, hugging her friend quickly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, presenting first, the challenger—get ready to take to the skies, because we're going airborne with Evan Bourne!" Justin announced. Evan came out with his usual cheer, waving to the crowd as he bounced into the ring. Backstage, even Erin had to grin despite her nervousness, resettling her belt on her shoulder. "And in her first title defense—your World Heavyweight Champion, the G.I. Jane Erin Harris!"

Erin was every bit as enthusiastic in her entrance, the title belt bouncing on her shoulder as she made her way down to the ring. Her belt and dog tags went to the ring attendant, and she made sure to shake Evan's hand before stepping back to her corner.

"This match is set for one fall, and is for the World Heavyweight Championship!" Justin reminded them.

"That's always real nice to see, Michael—some real sportsmanship in the ring," Jerry said approvingly.

"From what I've heard, Erin and Evan are quite good friends," Michael remarked. "And ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to welcome at this time our special guest announcer, who also happens to be tonight's guest host—Mickie James!" Mickie waved from her seat next to them, slipping on her headset. She reached over and rang the bell, and Erin cracked her neck as she and Evan began to circle each other cautiously. Erin went at it first, feinting left and snapping off a kick to his hamstring. Evan hopped backwards, smiling wryly.

"That's usually my move," he told her, and Erin snickered. Evan made the next move, tossing out an experimental roundhouse kick. Erin ducked under it, popping up and landing several punches before he rolled away. Evan speared her as she stepped forward, and she hit the mats hard. Evan went for a pin, but Erin kicked out at two. She threw Evan over her hip as she rose, and he bounced to his feet quickly. Erin snapped off a kick that Evan caught, but she nailed his temple with an enzuigiri and dropped onto him for the pin. He kicked out just as quickly, and Erin dragged him upright, Irish whipping him into the corner, where he hung dazed for a moment. Erin kicked up into a handstand, catching him in a headscissors takedown that threw him across the ring. She grinned, preparing for a standing moonsault.

Instead, she flew forward, hitting the mats hard. The referee signaled for the bell to be rung as Jack Swagger stormed the ring, dragging her upright and throwing her into the ropes.

"Get out of the ring, Swagger!" the referee demanded. Jack ignored him, yanking Erin's feet out from under her as he went for an ankle lock. Evan made it back to his feet, and springboarded off the top rope to catch Jack by surprise with a headscissors takedown. "Your winner, by disqualification—Erin Harris!"

"You alright?" Evan asked Erin, ignoring the referee and offering her hand. Erin took it gratefully, leaning on him slightly as she rolled out her ankle.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "You deserved a better match than that. I'll talk to Steph and see if we can get a rematch, alright?" Evan chuckled, helping her out of the ring and away from Jack, who was finally back on his feet.

"For a Marine, you're such a softie," he told her. "And that means a lot, so thanks. Let's get backstage, alright? The trainers should really check out that ankle."

"Nah, I just needed to shake it out," Erin shrugged. "I really want to see Hunter's match, though, so do you want to hang out in my locker room? Steph got me a new couch, and it's really comfy."

"Sure," Evan laughed. "I'll bring the popcorn. Mind if Nikki and Brie come along? They were trying to avoid Mike before, so I figured we could give them someplace to hide out."

"It'll be a regular party," Erin said, grinning wryly. "I've got Gatorade in the fridge, so I'll grab some for all four of us." She ducked back into her locker room quickly, cleaning and organizing as she flipped the TV on. She poked her head back out into the hallway, looking back and forth for Evan. "Oy, Bourne! Hunter's match is on!" she bellowed.

"He had to rescue Mickie from Jillian—he'll be along in a minute," Brie called back, breezing in with Nikki just behind her, each of them bearing a bowl of popcorn. "Who's he against tonight?"

"Sheamus," Erin replied, making room for both of them on the couch. "So as you might be able to guess, I really, really want Hunter to win."

"What'd I miss?" Evan asked, flying through the door and flinging himself onto the couch.

"Nothing yet, really," Erin promised. "They're just circling right now. And if you broke any of my couch springs, you're fixing it."

"Are you calling me fat?" he demanded, mock-angry. Erin just laughed, offering him some popcorn.

"And Sheamus goes for a big boot—misses as Triple H ducks under it, and Triple H comes back with a running clothesline!" Jerry called. Backstage, Erin and Evan cheered, and Brie and Nikki laughed at their enthusiasm. As quickly as Sheamus was back on his feet, he couldn't slip out of Hunter's hold as he pulled him into a backbreaker.

"Man, I wish I could do that," Erin said wistfully.

"But you can't, 'cause you're too short," Evan told her, teasing. Erin threw a piece of popcorn at him, which he caught in his mouth, winking cheekily.

"You should talk," Erin grumbled. "You're only five inches taller than me."

"Which means I could do a backbreaker on you," Evan replied promptly. Erin stuck her tongue out at him, turning back to the screen in time to see Sheamus hit a swinging neckbreaker.

"Come on, Hunter," Brie whispered, jiggling her leg nervously. He made it back to his feet, and all four of them cheered as Hunter landed a high knee strike on Sheamus' jaw. It left him woozy enough that Hunter hit him with a flowing DDT with ease. Erin joined the crowd as they began to chant for the Pedigree, bouncing out of her seat as Hunter nailed it.

"And that'll do it—Triple H with the win!" Jerry announced. Erin smiled, kicking back and putting her feet up on the table contentedly.

"Who's up next?" Evan asked lazily.

"Justin," Brie said immediately, and Erin hid a smile. "He's got William Regal."

"Justin better hit a 450 splash at some point, because that guy annoys the crap out of me," Nikki told her twin.

"I told him the same thing," Brie replied, her voice a mock-conspiratorial whisper, and Erin snickered.

"So what'd I miss?" John asked, peering around the doorframe. Erin's eyes lit up, and she rolled over the back of the couch, jumping up to hug him. John lifted her easily, laughing, before kissing her soundly.

"We're trying to watch a match here!" Nikki called. Erin had the grace to look embarrassed, shushing John obnoxiously. He took a seat, pulling her into his lap as they turned back to the match. Justin had just escaped a double underhook suplex that Regal had turned into a bow and arrow stretch, and sent him flying over the ropes and onto the announcing table with a superkick.

"Come on, baby," Brie whispered, leaning closer as she crossed her fingers. "Come on." Justin climbed to the center of the top rope, balancing carefully.

"Oh, my God, he's actually going to do it," Evan said, sounding shocked. Justin launched himself from the ropes, landing the 450o splash. He made it back to the ring before the count-out, winning the match, but Regal didn't so much as move. The EMTs rushed to the ring, sliding him onto a stretcher and wheeling him out of the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've been informed that William Regal appears to have a concussion and will likely miss the next two weeks of Monday Night Raw," Michael announced.

"I'm so devastated," Nikki said dryly.

"We all are," Mickie called from the doorway, sounding every bit as sarcastic. "Sorry to interrupt, guys—apparently, Jack wants to talk to you. In the ring."

"Which means he'll say something insulting, then try to attack me, blah, blah, blah," Erin said, sounding bored. "Alright. Guess that means I need to leave my really comfortable seat, also known as my boyfriend."

"I'll gladly accept the first title, don't worry," John laughed, and Erin turned to kiss him long and slow before following Mickie out.

"I even grabbed you a microphone," Mickie told her. "And I'll be just up the ramp if you need me."

"Thanks, Mickie," Erin replied gratefully, taking it. "Is he already out there?"

"He's been talking for the last five minutes straight," Mickie told her, rolling her eyes. "Please, for the love of God, make him shut up."

"Your wish is my command," Erin said, with an ostentatious bow. Mickie was laughing as Roy cued up Erin's music, blasting it over the stadium and interrupting Jack's speech as she headed down the ramp.

"So I hear you'd like to talk to me?" she said, smiling sweetly as she climbed into the ring. "Go right ahead. I'm not going anywhere." Jack looked startled for a moment, but cleared his throat and straightened himself officiously.

"Erin Harris, you are a Neanderthalic brute," he pronounced. "You supported a corrupt government by joining an unjust army to fight an unnecessary war. You're as much of a hypocrite as these audience members here. I'm not misogynist and I don't mean this in a sexist fashion, but a woman has no place fighting male wrestlers and you don't deserve the title you have." The crowd booed, but Erin merely watched him expressionlessly.

"Are you quite finished?" Erin asked mildly. Jack inclined his head, and Erin smiled tightly. "Good. I'd like to begin by saying that you need to stop lording it over everyone that you went to the University of Oklahoma. I went to Penn State main campus. John Cena went to Springfield. Evan Bourne went to the University of Missouri. And all of us were National Honor Society members with excellent SAT scores, so you've got nothing to be bragging about. I'd also like to say that if I'm a Neanderthal—which, by the way, is no longer considered its own separate species, but a subspecies of Homo sapiens—then you're a troglodyte. Secondly, I support the republican democracy founded by men who swore to defend liberty at all costs. I swore that same oath—to defend my country and my countrymen, including pinheaded, ungrateful ignoramuses like you. Thirdly, I'm no misandrist, but I am sick and tired of males—I hesitate to call them "men"—who seem to think that because I've got nothing swinging between my legs, I'm incapable of fighting anyone who does. But if you really believe you're all that superior to me, you'll face me in arguably the toughest, most macho match there is: Hell in a Cell at Night of Champions."

"You've got a match," Jack hissed, his face murderous. Erin smiled sweetly, bowing her head before grabbing the ropes to duck out of the ring.

"Hold on, hold on," Mickie called, standing at the top of the ramp. "I've got a new proposal." She made her way down to the ring, whispering something into Erin's ear that made her smile broaden.

"I could go for that," she replied, chuckling.

"I hereby declare the Hell in a Cell match to be a tag team match," Mickie announced. "Jack Swagger, your tag team partner will be a fellow young superstar: the Miz." The crowd booed, but Erin's smile was still present. "Which I suppose makes it rather obvious that Erin's tag team partner will be the WWE Champion, John Cena!" The crowd's boos turned to raucous cheers, and Erin saluted them cheerfully.

"You can't do that!" Jack protested furiously, starting towards her. His giant frame towered over both girls, but neither of them flinched. "I am the All-American American. I'm the best wrestler in this company, and I demand that you change it back."

"I disagree, and no," Mickie replied, smiling sweetly. Jack stepped closer.

"I said, change it back," he growled.

"And I said no," Mickie repeated. Enraged, Jack threw a punch at Mickie's head. Before it could connect, however, Erin caught his fist bare-handed, meeting his gaze squarely.

"Now, now, now," Erin scolded, her voice sugar-sweet. "That's not very nice. Didn't your mother teach you not to hit a lady?" Jack yanked his fist back, throwing a left-handed punch at Erin. Erin ducked under it, letting him miss, and grabbed his wrist, sending him over the top rope.

"Nicely done—using his own bodyweight against him," Mickie remarked, impressed

"It's a handy skill to learn," Erin agreed. The two ducked out of the ring, ignoring Jack as they did so, though they waved to the crowd

"Want to go grab dinner?" Mickie asked, strolling up the ramp with her, arm in arm.

"Dinner sounds lovely," Erin agreed, smiling. "Mind if I invite a few more of the superstars to join us?"

"Sure," Mickie replied cheerfully. "Who were you thinking?"

"Well, John, of course," Erin admitted, blushing. Mickie laughed. "I was thinking about Evan Bourne, as well. He's a real sweetheart. And Natalya's been complaining that Tyson never takes her anywhere, so I thought I might invite both of them as well. Sound good to you?"

"Yes, but I think all my nice stuff is back at the hotel—any chance we could stop there?" Mickie asked. "And yeah, Evan seems like a nice guy. I hadn't met him while I was with the WWE—we just never ran into each other. He came over to conveniently ask me a question when Jillian tried to get me to introduce her to my record label."

"Ah," Erin said, smiling wryly. "Yeah, Jillian still thinks she has a good voice. We've given up on trying to convince her otherwise. And I've got an extra dress in my locker, and you look to be about my size," she offered, opening her locker and holding up said dress. "Want to try it on?"

"Sure," Mickie shrugged, ducking into the bathroom to change. The fitted green dress had asymmetrical sleeves and a boat neckline, falling to Mickie's midthigh. "And I think I can actually wear my boots with it, so I'm all set!"

"Perfect," Erin replied, smiling. "Give me five seconds, and I'll be ready." Her dress was white, with a wide crew neckline and long, loose sleeves. The banded bottom just reached midthigh, and she grabbed a pair of gladiator sandals from Beth's locker. "Want to go find the boys with me?"

"No need—we found you first," John called. "Your mic was still on when you guys were coming up the ramp—I overheard. Natalya and Tyson are going to meet us at Olive Garden, and Evan is—"

"Evan is right here," Evan informed them, buttoning the last of his shirt's buttons. "Hi, Mickie. Good to see you again."

"Hi, Evan," Mickie said, smiling. "Thanks for the rescue before, by the way."

"No problem," Evan replied, offering his arm. "Ready to go?" Erin watched them with a small smile, and John bent down to whisper in her ear.

"You're matchmaking again," he accused her.

"I'm _encouraging_," Erin demurred. "Besides, she already met him, and thought he was cute. I'm just—enabling her to get to know him better."

"Oh, so that's what you're calling it now," John chuckled.

"It's all semantics," Erin agreed, grinning up at him.

"Are you two done flirting?" Evan called loudly. "Because I'm starving, and I want to have an actual conversation with the pretty girl on my arm."

"Cool your jets, flyboy," Erin called back, waving him off. "We're coming."

"Oh, so it's 'flyboy', now?" he teased. Erin punched him jokingly, and the four headed out together.

A/N: I told you I'd give you a long chapter! I've always wanted to see a Mickie/Evan pairing, although I really don't have time to write one. So I gave them a little couple-cameo instead. Also, it really is true that Homo neanderthalensis as a unique species is being debated (I do my research!). And I love Tom and Jerry, so I threw that reference in there too. Read and review, please!


	41. Stay Starstruck

Erin made her way down the hallway, pausing to adjust her boots quickly. When she looked up, she saw a pair of jean-covered legs, and craned her neck upwards to see who was standing there.

"Oh…my…God!" she squealed. "You're—you're Eli Manning!" He smiled, offering his hand.

"And you're Erin Harris," he replied as she stood up. "I was hoping I'd run into you at some point. The team has a great time watching you wrestle, you know. Actually, we gave you a nickname—the New York not-Giant." Erin burst into laughter at that, grinning wryly.

"Fits me well," she agreed. "That's—I—I'm such a huge fan. I mean, the Giants have been my team since before I could talk. My big brother used to teach me all the hand signals, and I used to run around the house yelling "Fumble!" every time somebody dropped something." Eli snorted.

"Sounds like me and my brother," he told her, grinning. "So I was just down chatting with a few of the superstars, but do you think you could introduce me to some of the Divas?"

"Of course!" Erin said immediately. She tucked her arm through his as he offered it, though her head just barely came up to his shoulder. "Most of them are real sweethearts. They've got their own greenroom and locker room and all, too."

"Greenroom?" Eli asked.

"Just a backstage hangout," Erin explained. "Couches, TVs, built-in bar. They used to be painted green in theaters, hence the name. Here we are." She poked her head through the doorway, smiling as she caught sight of Nikki and Brie. "Ladies! Who wants to get my favorite football player a drink?"

"Depends. What're you drinking?" Beth called, popping out from behind the bar. "Hey, Snow. Thought I'd come visit, since I hadn't seen you in ages." Erin grinned.

"I'll just grab a beer," Eli said, and Beth tossed over a bottle.

"So Eli, these are Beth, Nikki and Brie—they're twins, but Brie's got a flower in her hair and Nikki doesn't, that's how you tell them apart—Gail, Natalya, and Eve," Erin said, pointing to each Diva in turn. "Ladies, Eli Manning. Also known as the quarterback of the freaking amazing New York Giants, my boys since I was old enough to watch football."

"Which was why I got you tickets for your birthday," Beth reminded her, and Erin grinned.

"The Giants-Dallas home game is the best one of the year. With the exception of the Super Bowl," she amended. "I can't wait. And John's really excited to come, even if the Patriots are more of his home team."

"Make sure to come say hi—I'll send over some all-access passes," Eli told her, taking a seat on the couch. Erin grinned, excited by the prospect.

"I'm going to go see if I can find Kelly," she said, grabbing a water bottle. "Mind keeping Eli entertained?"

"I think we can handle it," Gail laughed. "And last I saw, she was headed towards catering, if that helps." Erin nodded, waving cheerfully as she ducked out the door. Catering was halfway around the stadium, but Erin had only made just past Kofi's locker room when she heard Kelly. She paused, frowning, as she heard someone else's voice as well.

"Dolph, get off," Kelly said, sounding nervous. "You've got a girlfriend."

"Who, Piggy Guerrero?" Dolph scoffed, leaning into her. "I'm only with her because she gets me matches. You and that amazing body of yours—that's my type." Kelly tried to push him off.

"Dolph, you're creeping me out," Kelly told him, shrinking away from his touch. "Let me go." He slid his hand up her leg, ignoring her, and Erin decided she'd waited long enough.

"Oy, get off, Ziggles," she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest as she rounded the corner. Kelly looked somewhere between shame and relief as Dolph stepped away, turning his attention to Erin and looking her up and down, leering. "Don't even think about objectifying me. I'll smack you so hard you'll need a haircut by the time you wake up. You, me, non-title match tonight. Somebody needs to get you to leave the Divas alone."

"Is that the stakes, then?" Dolph asked, raising his eyebrows. "If you win, I stay away from the Divas?"

"If I win, you don't so much as talk to them unless one talks to you first," Erin retorted.

"Fine," Dolph snapped. "But _when_ I win, you have to be my assistant for the next month and you'll have to do anything I tell you. And when I say anything, I mean _anything_." Erin rolled her eyes.

"I'll go tell Steph to book the match," she told him, wrapping a protective arm around Kelly's waist. "And we're leaving."

As soon as they were out of sight, Kelly began to cry, tears streaming down her face. Erin turned to her immediately, pulling the younger girl into a hug.

"It's alright," she whispered. "It's alright. It's not your fault."

"It is my fault," Kelly sobbed. "Everybody thinks I'm a slut because I slept with Randy, and that I slept my way into being a Diva or something. So now all the guys think I'm an easy lay, but he was just so sweet, and I thought he really cared about me, and—"

"You don't have to explain anything," Erin promised her, her heart twisting in sympathy. "I know how he can be. And no guy has the right to come on to you, regardless of who you have or haven't slept with, okay? You'll find a good guy who actually respects you. You deserve one." Kelly managed a watery smile at that.

"I used to have the biggest crush on John," she confessed. "He shot me down. He was nice about it, but he shot me down. You two are perfect for each other, though. I want to find somebody like that."

"You will, and I know it," Erin told her firmly. She glanced up, catching sight of Stephanie. "Hey, Steph—I'm sorry I didn't ask you first, but I made a match with Mr. Ziggles. I win, he leaves the Divas alone; he wins, I have to be his assistant for a month. Can you put it on the card?"

"Sure. You two'll be up third, right after the Six-Pack Challenge," Stephanie told her, unperturbed. "And if he's been bothering the Divas, I can look into that."

"Thanks," Kelly said quietly. Stephanie looked at her, concerned.

"Kel, if you ever need help dealing with them, or just somebody to talk to, you know where to find me," she told the younger Diva. "Hang in there. I'll see you two around."

"She's a lot nicer than she used to be," Kelly remarked as she and Erin headed back to the green room.

"Hey, Erin!" Natalya called, David and Tyson right behind her. "Can I grab you for a second? Vince wants to talk to you and me and John and Tyson about shooting a couples promo."

"Will you be alright?" Erin asked Kelly, quiet enough that the members of the Hart Dynasty couldn't hear her. Kelly nodded, but Erin glanced back at her as she walked away, worried that she would begin crying once more.

"I'd ask if everything's okay, but I think that's a stupid question," she heard David saying behind her. "So is there anything I can do to help?" Erin smiled, reassured, as Kelly managed a small smile in response to David's offer of a handkerchief.

"Your cousin's a good guy," Erin commented. Natalya nodded.

"For all that he's built like a bouncer, he really is a sweetheart," Tyson agreed. "Hey, John."

"Hey, guys," John said cheerfully. "Hi, beautiful." He leaned over to kiss Erin, who smiled up at him. "So what's the promo for, by the way?"

"It's a Make-a-Wish fundraising campaign," Natalya explained. "He wants couples because he wants to highlight the whole past-present-future idea. And before you even ask, yes, they're bringing in pictures of us as little kids."

"Lovely," Erin said dryly. "My favorite."

"I'm sure you were adorable as a little kid, because you're absolutely gorgeous now," John told her, kissing her sweetly. Tyson mock-gagged, and all four of them were laughing as they headed into Vince's office.

* * *

Once the promo shoot was over, Erin raced back to her locker room, changing from her cargo pants and t-shirt into fitted jeans, knee-high black boots, and a cherry-red cowl neck tunic. She undid her braid, letting her curls cascade freely over her shoulders and applying a quick coat of lip gloss and eyeliner before grabbing ducking out.

"Have I ever mentioned that you look really, really sexy in red?" John asked her, pulling her back against him. Erin blushed, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"Can't say that you have," she told him.

"Well, that's a problem, then," John said mock-solemnly. "Because you look really, really sexy in red." Erin laughed, and he spun her around quickly, kissing her swiftly. "I brought your belt, by the way. Thought you might want to remind the guys out there what they're fighting for."

"Thanks, love," Erin said, perfectly content to remain in his arms for the time being. John chuckled, lifting her up so that she stood on his feet and walking her backwards towards the ramp.

"You know you have to get ready to get out there," he reminded her.

"Not until Justin announces everybody else," she said stubbornly. John just laughed, setting her down.

"I'll see you after the show," he told her, kissing her quickly. Erin cleared her throat loudly, and John couldn't help but smile, pulling her back in as he cradled her head for a long, slow kiss that left her breathless.

"Much better," Erin replied cheekily. "Now I'm ready." With that, she marched over to the entrance, watching around the corner as Justin stepped to the center of the ring.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as stipulated by our Chairman, Vincent Kennedy McMahon, this match for the number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship will be a Six-Pack Elimination Challenge!" Justin announced. "Introducing first, weighing in at 485 pounds—he is the World's Largest Athlete, the Big Show!"

The Big Show's music blasted over the stadium, and the cheers that greeted him were deafening. He lumbered down to the ring, waving proudly, stretching as he ducked inside the ropes and waited for the other superstars to arrive.

"Presenting next, the Straight-Edge Superstar, weighing in at 225 pounds, CM Punk!" Justin went on. Punk received no such cheers as he made his way down to the ring, a fact that the Big Show noted with a small smirk. "He is one of Raw's newest superstars and a former bare-knuckles brawler—Wade Barrett!" Wade received polite applause, though nothing as loud as the cheers for the Big Show. Wade didn't seem bothered, though, waving to the crowd nonetheless. "Our next competitor, weighing in at 183 pounds—he is the high-flying Evan Bourne!"

Evan received the even larger cheers, bouncing down the ramp with his customary enthusiasm. He hi-fived every hand within reach, and backstage, Erin couldn't help but grin.

"The next superstar to enter the ring, in his first match back post-injury, the King, the Game—Triple H!" Justin announced. Hunter received the largest cheers yet, and Justin went on quickly. "And our last superstar in this match is the Monday Night Delight, the Guru of Greatness, the Shaman of Sexy—John Morrison!"

Morrison's response drew not only cheers but screams of delight from the female members of the audience, and Erin couldn't help but laugh.

"And tonight's guest announcer, the current World Heavyweight Champion—Erin Harris!" Justin finished. Erin bounced out of the entrance, holding the World Heavyweight Championship above her head as she bounded down the ramp, tossing it over her shoulder in order to hi-five the fans who reached out to her. She stopped to personally thank the members in uniform she saw, handing her hat over to one soldier's daughter, autographing it at the little girl's request before grabbing a seat next to Jerry (who promptly turned to smirk at Michael).

"Erin, always a pleasure to have you with us, and looking lovely as ever," Jerry told her. Erin smiled, folding her belt neatly and placing it on the table as Jerry handed her a headset.

"Great to be back with you guys," Erin replied. "I'm real excited to see this match, and not just to see who I'll be facing. It should really be a good match." The match kicked off in the ring as Michael turned to Erin.

"So ideally speaking, who would you most like to face in a match for your title?" he asked.

"Well, I'd love to get a rematch with Evan, since we were so rudely interrupted in our last match," Erin replied. "And I certainly wouldn't mind facing Punk either, because I still have issues with him."

"Not that you hold a grudge or anything," Michael said dryly. Erin shrugged.

"I'm only human," she reminded him.

"And who would you least like to face?" he pressed.

"Well, I think I might be at a bit of a disadvantage if I were to face Big Show," Erin remarked wryly. "That'd probably be my last choice. But I'd really like to get back to the match—I think I just saw Evan hit an enzuigiri on Punk, and it looks like—yup, he and Morrison just teamed up to send Punk out of the ring. Oh, darn. Looks like I won't be facing him after all."

"Somehow, you don't sound all that upset," Jerry noted, and Erin grinned. In the ring, Evan and Morrison had turned on Wade, attacking him together as Triple H and Big Show went at it.

"Triple H looking as strong as ever, to be honest—I'm sure that wouldn't be a fun match either," Michael added.

"I won't disagree with that," Erin agreed.

"And there goes Wade Barrett, leaving just four men in the ring!" Jerry announced. "It looks like Evan and Morrison are turning their attentions to Triple H, and Big Show—Big Show is just biding his time, but Triple H isn't going down without a fight."

"Does he ever?" Erin quipped, wincing in sympathy as both Evan and Hunter went over the top rope, landing hard.

"It's down to Morrison and Big Show, and Morrison's flying chuck—well, on any other man, that would be a devastating strike to the head, but that just hit Big Show's shoulder. And Big Show with a chokeslam!" Jerry raved. "Ladies and gentlemen, that will do it—Big Show sends John Morrison out of the ring, and it will be the Big Show versus Erin Harris for the World Heavyweight Championship next week!" Erin nodded slowly, resignedly, rising and taking off her headset as she shouldered her belt once more. She slid into the ring, offering Big Show her hand. His huge hand dwarfed hers, but he shook it nonetheless.

"Best of luck to you," she told him quietly, and he smiled.

"I know I'll need to bring my A-game," he replied, nodding respectfully. He held the ropes down for her as they ducked out of the ring, and Erin grinned wryly.

"I think the last time we were here, you'd just saved me from a beating and I had a few more bruises," she remarked, and he chuckled.

"You were a little spitfire as soon as you got here," he told her. "Anybody who had that much spunk—well, I couldn't let a low-life like Spencer Pratt mess with you." Erin smiled at that. "I hear you've got a match against Ziggler tonight?"

"Yeah, he's been bothering the Divas, so I decided to remind him that us women in the WWE take care of our own," Erin said, grinning. "I actually have to grab my escort real quick, but—you want to help out with the commentary? Return the favor for me?"

"If it means I get to drown out Michael Cole, not a problem," Big Show told her, every bit as cheerful. "I'll go grab my seat and see you in a minute."

"Thanks, Show," Erin called over her shoulder as she jogged back up the entrance ramp, spotting Kelly down the hallway. "Hey, Kel—ready to go?"

"You want me out there with you?" she asked, sounding nervous.

"I want you out there and in your ring gear, because I want you to hit a finisher on him once I lay his ass out," Erin corrected, smiling. "Come on. Do it for all the girls in the WWE universe." Kelly smiled reluctantly, and Erin ducked into her locker room to change. She was out again just a moment later, her smile broadening as she saw that Kelly was in her pink-and-green camouflage uniform, standing with her hands on her hips.

"Let's go kick ass, then," Kelly said, and Erin nodded approvingly as they took up their spot backstage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is a non-title match between Dolph Ziggler and World Heavyweight Champion Erin Harris!" Josh announced. "Introducing first, weighing in at 221 pounds, Dolph Ziggler!" A chorus of loud boos rose from the audience, and Erin smiled backstage.

"And accompanied by the lovely Kelly Kelly, your current World Heavyweight Champion, Erin Harris!" Josh went on. Kelly bounced out first, waving to the crowd as Erin stepped out and saluted. Kelly climbed up to Erin's corner before holding the belt for her, and Erin stripped off her shirt and dog tags without hesitation.

"Let's get this match started, douchebag," Erin growled. The bell rang, and she went after Dolph without a moment's pause. He managed to get in a few good punches, but she sent him to the floor with an over-the-hip toss, following it up with a diving elbow drop to his shoulder. She made short work of him, eventually finishing him off with a dragon sleeper hold. As soon as the bell rang, Erin stepped on the bottom rope, ushering Kelly in.

"This one's for the girls," Kelly shouted, loud enough that the entire stadium could hear her as she cartwheeled across the ring, moonsaulting onto Dolph's prone form before rising to glare down at him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winner—World Heavyweight Champion Erin Harris!" Josh announced. Erin shook her head, raising Kelly's hand high and pointing to her instead.

"You're the real champ tonight, Kel," she said quietly, hugging the young Diva. "You showed him." She slid out of the ring, striding proudly up the ramp, her eyes lighting up as she caught sight of John backstage.

"So I hear we've got the World's Largest Athlete against the WWE's smallest?" John asked. Erin nodded, laughing.

"Should be a fun one," she commented. "You might want to start buying me ice and Advil as of now."

"Don't be so skeptical. You could still win," John said optimistically. Erin looked at him eyebrows raised, and John smiled sheepishly. "Can I at least get points for trying?"

"Many, many bonus points, which you may redeem after I've taken a shower," she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. "And even if I win, I'll still need Advil and ice." John was still focused on the rewards she'd promised, and Erin couldn't help but laugh as they headed backstage.

* * *

A/N: So I still don't really like Kelly Kelly all that much (she's just too perky and she really annoys me for some reason), but her character is supposed to be all good girl/girl-next-door, so I thought this would work. I could see David Hart Smith being a sweetheart, too, so I thought I'd give him a little cameo. Hope you guys enjoyed.

Also, we're going to do another respond-to-the-reviewers segment, so here goes!

Kaycee-x John Cenaholic: yes, that was ABSOLUTELY an x-men reference…so glad you caught it :)

KingdomHeartsandIchigoLover: I'm glad you like the story! I'm not going to be putting the original nexus in there (mainly because I like Wade/Justin/Heath too much to turn them into heels…) but the New Nexus will make an appearance later on!

iBrizzy: the Mickie/Evan thing may or may not have been inspired by a discussion with a friend about the adorably tiny babies that would result from two of the shortest people in pro wrestling…and yes, I, too, would crack up if the announcing team were Tom and Jerry. I can imagine the puns now…

ilovepeterson124: glad you like it!

Keep on reading and reviewing, please!


	42. Play a Little Make Believe

Erin had never been big on Halloween. As a child, she and Aiden had spent most Halloweens at home, making fun of the kids who went out in elaborate costumes while secretly wishing they had enough money for costumes of their own. However, Beth had informed her that Halloween was practically as good as Christmas in the WWE, and as such, she would be dressing up for Halloween. Which was how Erin found herself, on Friday, October 31st, trying to wiggle into a pair of skintight shorts.

"Let me see your costume!" Beth demanded. "And it better not be Wonder Woman, because that's what I'm wearing."

"I'm not Wonder Woman, don't worry," Erin called back, coming slowly out of the room. She wore Kelly's black leather shorts that she'd worn on her first night out with the Divas with a thick black belt, one knife holstered on each side. Garter strap-holsters held two guns—fake ones, for once—and she wore knee-high black boots. Her black tank top was short enough to show off her midriff, and her hair dangled over one shoulder in a long braid. "What do you think?"

"Lara Croft—good choice," Beth said approvingly. "Come on. The boys are waiting for us downstairs."

"What's John wearing?" Erin asked, grabbing her wallet.

"Not sure," Beth shrugged. "But Ted's going as Superman, so we match."

"That is adorable," Erin teased, and Beth blushed. "Let's go."

The superstars whistled as Beth and Erin joined them, and Erin couldn't help but laugh at Ted's dropped jaw. It was Beth's turn to laugh, however, as John—dressed as Indiana Jones, complete with a coiled whip at his waist—entered, his eyes immediately drawn to Erin.

"Excuse me," he said promptly, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her out into the hallway.

"John, what—" Erin started. Before she could finish, John had pinned her against the wall, holding her wrists above her head with one hand. Erin gasped as John's lips found her neck, arching into him. John let go of her wrists to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling her even closer as he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her head down. His lips brushed against hers softly, teasing her until she couldn't stand it, pushing herself up and into him as she opened her mouth, letting him in. Erin's hands pushed open his shirt, roaming over his torso. John pinned her hands over her head once more, his own hands sliding from her bare stomach to trace the low neckline of her shirt against her skin. Her shivering sigh was all the encouragement he needed, and his response was low, rumbling chuckle.

"That's my favorite sound right there," he whispered, and a slow smile spread across Erin's face.

"Oy, get a room!" Cody bellowed, coming out into the hallway, and John glared at him as Erin blushed.

"And if we want to leave for the club anytime soon, we have to go now," Nikki informed them, trying to hide her smile. Erin intertwined her fingers with John's as they left, trying to ignore Beth's wink. John just laughed, helping her into the taxi as they pulled out.

"Sorry I put you in a compromising position," he told her.

"No, you're not," Erin said, her blush still brilliantly pink.

"Not in the least," John said unrepentantly, and Erin managed a small smile.

"What was that about you being a good Catholic girl?" Kelly asked teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah, you should talk," Erin said defensively, glancing pointedly at Kelly's barely-there Catwoman costume.

"Oh, so that's the thanks I get for loaning you my shorts?" Kelly asked, mock-angry. "I've got half a mind to take them back."

"I'll help with that," John offered immediately. Erin smacked his arm, laughing. "And we're here, love."

"Oh, thank goodness," Erin sighed, and John laughed as he helped her out. The bouncer waved them in immediately, and Erin stepped closer to John instinctively as the noise of the club nearly knocked her backwards.

"You alright?" John asked her, concerned. Erin nodded.

"Just surprised, that's all. Can you grab a table? I'll get drinks for both of us," she offered. "Sam Adams for you?" Erin asked.

"Have I ever mentioned what an amazing girlfriend you are?" John asked by way of reply.

"I'll be right back," Erin laughed, heading to the bar. "Can I get a Shirley Temple and a Sam Adams, please?"

"Sure—you're Erin Harris, right?" the bartender asked. Erin nodded, grabbing a stool as she mixed her drink. "These are on the house. Keep up the ass-kicking. My little girls need a good role model, and they love watching you."

"Well, I'm glad that doing what I love keeps them happy," Erin laughed. "And thanks for the drinks." The bartender waved her off, and Erin made her way back across the crowded floor. She stopped, raising her eyebrows, as she saw a girl in a few scraps of fabric that might, with generous interpretation, vaguely resemble a highly sexualized Catholic schoolgirl's uniform, standing next to John and practically pawing his chest. "Oh hell, no, sweetheart," she growled under her breath. She slammed the drinks down on the table, much to the amusement of her fellow superstars and the Divas, crossing her arms as she glared at the girl.

"Hi," she said, smiling sweetly as she joined John. "I'm Erin. His girlfriend. Can I help you find some other guy to skank around in front of, or can you manage that yourself?" The girl looked her up and down scornfully, rolling her eyes and turning back to John.

"So what do you say, baby? Why don't we go back to my place and I'll show you what a real woman can do?" she purred, her hand sliding to the waistband of John's khakis.

"Sweetheart, you move that hand so much as an inch lower and so help me God, I will break you like a twig," Erin snapped. The girl looked up at her, startled, but tried to cover her surprise by smirking at Erin. "Don't give me that look, sweetheart. You know what I do for a living? I beat the shit out of guys twice my size, and I get paid for it. You, though—it'd practically be a public service to take you out."

"You wouldn't—" the girl started.

"I would and I'd enjoy every second of it," Erin retorted. "So if you want to keep your hands attached to the rest of your body, you should leave. Now."

"Whatever," the girl sneered, leaving in a huff. Erin watched her go, arms still crossed.

"That's right, bitch. Walk away," Erin said under her breath. At the table behind them, Matt and Christian were nearly falling out of their chairs with laughter, and she grinned sheepishly as she glanced over her shoulder.

"That may have been one of the sexiest things I've ever seen," John murmured in her ear, kissing her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her. Erin laughed, turning in his arms and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. "I don't know about you, but I could sure use a drink now."

"Already at the table," Erin replied, taking a seat and pulling her Shirley Temple over.

"So was that your first ring rat?" Beth asked.

"I always managed to avoid them at the stadium," Erin said, shrugging. "Personally, I would rather have kept it that way for a while."

"Wouldn't we all," Nikki said dryly.

"Well, I don't know about y'all, but I want to dance," Brie remarked, grabbing Justin's hand and pulling him onto the floor with her.

"So does that happen a lot?" Erin asked John, who laughed and pulled her closer.

"For some reason, it seems to happen less when you're around," he remarked. "Must have something to do with having a girlfriend who kicks ass. They get worse when you're not around, though."

"Man, all I get are crazy guys that think they're God's gift to women," Beth grumbled.

"Does that make Swagger and Miz ring rats?" Erin asked innocently. John nearly choked on his beer as he laughed, and Erin grinned. "Harris: 1, douchebags: 0."

"Technically, you've got two points up on them, for kicking Mr. Ziggles' ass," Matt offered helpfully. Erin grinned.

"True," she agreed. "I knew there was a good reason I was friends with you." They all continued to banter until their drinks were long gone. Beth was the first to pull her boyfriend out on the floor, but the rest of them soon followed. Even Steph and Hunter joined them after a while. Erin eventually acquiesced to requests to show off her salsa skills as she danced with John, which led to a group-wide dance-off. It was eventually declared a tie when they realized it was nearly one AM and most of the other superstars had left.

"I don't know about y'all, but I'm not ready for bed just yet," Stephanie remarked. "Don't think I can handle any more alcohol, though."

"How about strip poker?" Hunter suggested cheerfully.

"Only if Erin plays," John said immediately. Erin laughed.

"Fine," she agreed, resigned. "But my poker face sucks."

"Oh, good," John said, winking at her.

And that was how Erin found herself lacking a shirt, sitting on the floor of Paul and Stephanie's suite with her boyfriend and half of Raw's roster, somehow managing to hold her own against them despite her complete lack of bluffing ability.

"Ha! I win this hand too," she crowed, as Hunter grumbled under his breath, having lost the hand. She turned to John, still grinning. "Better watch out, Cena. I'm going after you next."

"Oh, are you now?" John asked, smiling slowly, wickedly. He met her gaze teasingly, running one hand from her calf up to the hem of her shorts.

"That's cheating," Erin gasped as her eyes darkened with desire. John chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

"How's it cheating?" he asked, his fingers still trailing up and down the smooth skin of her thigh.

"Because you're making me want to lose on purpose," she sighed, rolling away from his touch with great effort. "That's how it's cheating." John raised his eyebrows, his smile turning mischievous. and Erin stuck her tongue out at him. "On the bright side, I know your tell. So I should be okay."

"What's my tell?" John asked, curious.

"I'm not telling you!" Erin replied vehemently, grinning. "Reading tells is the only thing I'm good at in poker. I'm a terrible bluffer, as you've all probably figured out by now."

"So _that's_ why you're practically fully dressed, and all I've got is boxers," Hunter grumbled.

"I'm not complaining," Stephanie remarked, smirking. "In fact, I'm rather enjoying the view."

"Ick," Beth said jokingly.

"On the bright side, nobody's lost any money," Erin commented. She yawned, shaking her head. "That Halloween party really did me in. I don't even know if I'll make it up to my room at this rate."

"Want to stay with me tonight?" John asked quietly. "Just—sleep next to me. Nothing more."

"Alright," Erin replied, smiling shyly. "I fold, guys. Have a good night, alright?" The Divas cheered and the superstars wolf-whistled as they left, hand in hand, Erin's blush brilliantly apparent even in the dim light. "I'm borrowing one of your shirts to sleep in, though."

"Good. I like you in my shirts," John replied firmly, pulling her close as they walked into his room. Erin laughed, changing quickly into one of his "Never Give Up" shirts and sliding under the covers. John smiled, taking her hips to pull her closer and kissing her sweetly.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I like this part best of all," Erin said, smiling.

John didn't speak, just lowered his mouth to hers once more, her lips soft and delicate beneath his. Erin's shivering sigh was the only sound in the room until he pressed his lips to her forehead, stroking her hair back from her forehead.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, as Erin rested her head against his chest, his arm sliding over her waist to keep her close. His breathing slowed gradually, content with Erin in his arms. Erin smiled languidly, tilting her head up for a kiss.

"Goodnight, love," she whispered.

"Goodnight, beautiful," he said huskily, pressing one final kiss to her temple before she rolled over, still held securely against his bare chest.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry, a thousand times sorry for taking so long to update! Since I was such a jerk…here's three chapters to enjoy. This one's a bit of fluff, so I hope you like it. Read and review, please!


	43. Topple Giants

Erin spent five of the next six nights in John's room, even once they headed up to Boston to settle in before the next live show. Monday morning of the next week found her in his bed once more, having spent the night comfortably sleeping next to him.

"Wake up, gorgeous," Erin whispered, wriggling out from under his arm. John didn't move, though his lips twitched, and Erin smiled. She rolled over, straddling John's hips, and placed her hands on either side of his head as she lowered her lips to his.

"I could get used to waking up like this," he informed her drowsily.

"I could get used to waking you up like this," Erin replied, smiling. "And you look a lot softer when you've just woken up, did you know that?"

"I do no such thing," John protested, pouting. Erin laughed softly, kissing him once more. She had actually stayed with him most nights during the past week, a fact which Beth had taken advantage of as well.

"I'm going to go make breakfast—the kitchenette's well-stocked," she informed him, rolling off of him. John watched her walk away, his eyes following the line of her legs and the swing of her hips with a smile. Erin turned back, feeling his eyes on her. "What?"  
"You're beautiful," he replied simply. Erin blushed, and John smiled as she ducked around the dividing wall.

"What do you want in your omelet?" she called.

"Surprise me," he called back, rolling out of bed reluctantly as he pulled the sheets up, smoothing them carefully. In the kitchenette, Erin shook her head, setting two frying pans on the stove as she whisked the eggs. Her omelet was plain—feta cheese and mushroom, with garlic-olive oil and cracked pepper. For John, she mixed green and red peppers, sausage, cheddar, and spinach, sautéing them before layering them over the eggs. She flinched, startled, as John came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. "What do you want to drink?"

"Is there orange juice?" Erin asked, laughing.

"Of course," John replied, opening the refrigerator. "Want to eat on the balcony?"

"Sure," Erin agreed, putting out plates. "So what's your match looking like tonight?"

"I'm doing an intergender match with Eve against Ted and Maryse—Truth's still out with that concussion, and she needed a partner," John said. Erin flipped the omelets onto their plates, setting the pan down before she scorched her fingers. "You've got your title defense against Big Show, don't you?"

"I should really eat some extra Wheaties today, shouldn't I?" Erin joked, although she sounded nervous just thinking about it.

"You're going to do fine," John promised her quietly. When Erin didn't answer, he tilted her chin up. "And I promise I won't let you get hurt, okay? Now eat your delicious omelet and stop worrying." Erin laughed at that, digging into her omelet as John did the same. "Mmm. Can we make a deal? Trading omelets for backrubs?"

"I could go for that," Erin agreed, her mouth completely full. "I like making omelets almost as much as I like getting backrubs." John snickered, and Erin grinned. "I think I'll probably head over extra-early today. I want to get Kat to stretch me out, and she said I might be able to stop using the braces finally."

"Well, that's exciting," John remarked, polishing off the last of his omelet. "Man, that was good. Are you supposed to be doing the signing session today?"

"That's right—and this is only my second session, too," Erin realized. "What time are we supposed to be there?"

"One. They've got lunch for us there," John told her.

"I think I'm going to get my run in, then grab a shower—want to take the motorcycle over there?"

"Will you wear a dress?" John asked, smiling impishly.

"It's a little bit cold for dresses on motorcycles at this point," Erin laughed. "But I promise to wear something other than my cargo pants."

"I'll clean up the dishes—you go get changed," he insisted, and Erin leaned across the table to kiss him before ducking back into the bedroom, changing into running capris and a longsleeved New York Giants tee. "That'll be real popular here in Patriots territory," he called after her. Erin just threw up the rock-on sign as she left, putting her headphones in as she took off.

The great thing about running, she decided, was that nobody ever stared at you. Sure, she got a few odd looks for her jersey, and there were plenty of double-glances when people caught sight of her face, but for the most part, she was just another runner. Her route took her past several parks, and she paused halfway through to stretch before looping back around to the hotel.

"Bath's already full," John called as she came through the door, reclining on the couch to glance at her. "And yes. I am, in fact, the best boyfriend ever."

Erin laughed, bending to kiss him upside-down before ducking into the bathroom, sinking into the tub as soon as she'd folded her running clothes. John could hear her sigh of relief from the outer room, and chuckled to himself as he waited. He was in for a long wait—Erin was in the tub nearly an hour before finally emerging, wrinkled and pruny and thoroughly relaxed.

"Better?" he asked. Erin smiled, nodding, as she toweled her hair dry. John chuckled, heading into the bathroom. She flipped through her closet, finally settling on dark-washed skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt under a fitted black vest. She made their beds while she waited, folding her cargo pants and Marines shirt and packing them with her boots and sports bra. By the time she was done, John was dressed and ready, and he took her bag wordlessly as they headed out to the Hemi Charger.

"So where are we headed again?" Erin asked.

"TD Garden—same place we'll be performing tonight," John told her. "So do you need to go to the trainers at all today?"

"They'll probably want to tape my ankle," she shrugged, hopping into the passenger seat. "They finally stopped bracing it, which is nice. Means I can actually move."

"Moving is good," John commented, teasing, and she laughed. "So Steph gave me a call while you were gone—apparently, it's going to be a press conference and then the signing session."

"Who all's going to be here?" Erin asked.

"You, me, Kofi, and Eve—they wanted all the champions there," he replied. "I think Steph said there's time for five questions for each of us." Eve was pulling up as they parked, and she joined them as they headed in.

"I love that dress," Erin gushed, looking at Eve's midnight-blue strapless mini. "Can I steal it sometime?"

"As long as I can borrow those shoes you wore on Halloween," Eve threw back, and Erin nodded cheerfully. Kofi met them inside as Stephanie led them into a conference room.

The questions were almost exactly what she expected. When it came to John and Kofi, the reporters wanted to know about their training regimens, opinions of their opponents, and what they planned to do next in their careers; Eve's questions were all about alleged relationships, her personal style, and how she felt about comments various Divas had made about her. Erin got an interesting mix of questions, ranging in topic from her relationship with John to who she planned to challenge next. They broke for lunch, spending the afternoon signing autographs and meeting fans. John took her to dinner at a nearby oyster house, making sure they were back in plenty of time for her to warm up and get taped.

"Give it about three more weeks, and we won't even have to do this anymore," Kat assured her, wrapping her ankle briskly. "Don't forget to keep doing your rehab at home."

"Always," Erin promised, winking at her athletic trainer before sliding on her socks and boots. "Bye, Kat." She headed down the hall, whistling to herself but pausing as she noticed an unfamiliar figure peering at the nameplates outside of the locker rooms.

"Can I help you?" she called. The man turned around, and her jaw dropped. "Oh, my God—you're Jeff Hardy!"

"That's me," Jeff drawled, smiling. "Erin, right? The new high-flyer in town?"

"And that's me," Erin laughed. "Glad to hear my reputation precedes me."

"Are you kidding? You're Beth's favorite," Jeff told her. "Beth Britt—my girlfriend. She thinks you're awesome."

"I do my best," Erin said modestly. "So what brings you back to Raw? If you tell me you're making a comeback, I'll be out-of-my-mind excited."

"Sadly, no—not with this back," Jeff replied. "But I'm getting ready to open up my own training gym. You should definitely stop by and be a guest instructor sometime."

"I—wow. I'd be honored," Erin stammered, surprised. Jeff grinned.

"Awesome," he said. "So how about taking me down to the greenroom? I think they changed the setup since I've last been here."

"Of course!" Erin said immediately. "So what brings you here tonight?"

"I'm guest hosting," Jeff replied casually. Erin squeaked, blushing red with embarrassment as Jeff glanced over at her, amused. "So I hear you've got a title defense against Big Show tonight?"

"That I do," Erin said finally, sounding slightly nervous at the prospect. "I'm not quite as familiar with him as I am with some of the other superstars, but he was nice enough to me when I got here, and he's always fought fair. So it'll probably be a painful match, but at least he won't play dirty."

"Watch out for that big right hand," Jeff warned. Erin grinned wryly.

"Maybe I'll be too short for him to hit," she offered, only partly joking. "Honestly, I think the best thing I can do is keep moving and avoid getting hit at all costs. My only real strategy is get him down to the mats with a few strikes to his knees and his head, and then just keep him down there. His strength will beat me every time otherwise."

"Well, it's good you thought ahead," Jeff said approvingly. "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm planning to be a guest enforcer at every match to prevent any kind of interference."

"That really does make me feel a bit better," Erin laughed. "Thanks."

"Jeffro!" someone shrieked. Erin ducked out of the way as Maria barreled around the corner, cannoning into him. Jeff laughed, hugging the enthusiastic ex-Diva. "I heard you were coming tonight from Matt, so I called Steph and she called Vince and he said I can come back and do interviews tonight and I'm so glad I get to see you again!"

"Erin, have you met Ria, the queen of run-on sentences?" Jeff asked teasingly. Maria shrieked again, hugging Erin, who was laughing as well.

"Maria and the Divas helped me out my first night here," she explained. "She's a sweetheart."

"Aw, so are you, sunshine," Maria giggled. "You were fun to style, by the way. We should go out clubbing again sometime! And Jeffro, you totally need to bring Beth along for it. She's so much fun to hang out with."

"Alright, Ria," Jeff laughed. "Give Beth a call. She's so much better with schedules and all than I am."

"Sorry to run, but I have to go to a get ready. Will you be around later, by any chance?" Erin asked.

"Probably," Maria said, shrugging. "Promise me an interview later, and I can make it definite."

"Deal," Erin agreed cheerfully. "In-ring or backstage?"

"Backstage at some point—I'll come find you," Maria promised. "I think John was looking for you, by the way."

"I should go find him, then," Erin said. "I'll see both of you later!" With that, she headed down the hall, whistling to herself once more.

An hour later, Erin was thoroughly relaxed after a back massage that turned into a rather extended makeout session. She had half an hour until her match with Big Show, and wanted to get some stretching in before defending her championship. She was pretty much resigned to the challenge of it by that point, but she was anxious nonetheless. The best cure she'd come up with was to blast Rise Against's "Endgame" album as she warmed up, and the beats of "Satellite" pounded in her ears as she made her way closer to the ring.

"Erin—hey, Erin, do you have a minute for that interview?" Maria called. Erin turned, tugging her earbuds out of her ears.

"For you, Ria, always," she teased, smiling. "I can't believe I haven't done an interview with you yet!"

"Well, you have been pretty busy, winning the World Heavyweight Championship and all," Maria laughed. "Which is kind of ironic, come to think of it—you, the smallest superstar in the WWE, being the _heavyweight_ champion."

"I live to entertain," Erin replied cheerfully. "So what do you got for me today?"

"Roll cameras!" Maria ordered, gesturing to the cameraman next to her. "Hey, WWE fans, I'm backstage with Erin Harris, who's defending her heavyweight title against Big Show tonight. Erin, how do you feel?"

"Well, I'm a bit nervous, because he's a great wrestler and a great competitor, and he's someone I've looked up to since joining the WWE—literally and figuratively," Erin started. "But I'm going to do my best, because I really like this title and I'm not quite ready to give it up just yet."

"Who else would describe as an icon?" Maria asked.

"I have to say, one of my all-time favorite wrestlers is still Jeff Hardy, so I'm out of my mind with excitement that he's hosting tonight," Erin remarked. "Actually, I got a chance to meet him earlier, and it was just surreal."

"What would you say to girls interested in a career in the WWE or in the military?" Maria pressed on.

"Well, for girls who want to do either, I'd say you need to be mentally and physically strong," Erin said after thinking for a moment. "Don't be intimidated, and don't listen to people who say you can't do it. You just have to keep persevering, keep fighting, and never give up."

"Alright, that's all the time we have today, and I don't want to hold you up from your match, so good luck!" Maria cheered, hugging Erin swiftly. Erin laughed, hugging the bubbly redhead in response before putting her earbuds back in and blasting Rise Against once more.

When just five minutes were left before the match, Erin left the training room, shaking out every muscle before tossing the championship belt over her shoulder and taking a seat backstage. Big Show was there, too, but they ignored each other—not out of disrespect, but because they were simply too focused to notice. To Erin's surprise, Jeff appeared backstage, grabbing a microphone before heading down the ramp. Confused, she kept one eye on Big Show and one on the monitor as he entered the ring.

"So I thought I might announce and introduce for this match, since it's such a big deal," Jeff announced, and the audience cheered. "So we'll start out with our challenger—he is the World's Largest Athlete, the Big Show!" Show's music blasted over the stadium as he came out to modest applause. He made sure to shake Jeff's hand as he entered the ring, and Jeff nodded respectfully. "And presenting the defending World Heavyweight Champion, and quite possibly the world's smallest wrestler, your G.I. Jane Erin Harris!"

The cheers for Erin were nearly deafening, and she was grinning as she skipped down the ramp, hi-fiving every fan within reach.

"I probably am the world's smallest wrestler," she informed Jeff as she bounced into the ring. Jeff laughed, and Erin shook his hand before vaulting onto the top rope, saluting the crowd.

"This match is set for one fall, and is for the World Heavyweight Championship!" Jeff reminded them.

"Hey—good luck, Show," Erin said quietly, reaching out to shake his hand. He smiled down at her, his hand entirely engulfing hers as he shook it. The referee directed them back to their corners, and Erin leaned back, grabbing the ropes to stretch out her arms. As soon as the bell rang, she exploded out of the corner, pushing off as hard as she could to drive a dropkick into his jaw. He stumbled backwards, and Erin took the opportunity to drive several kicks into his knees and hamstrings. He came back with a huge right hand that went over her head, but his left-handed uppercut landed squarely on her ribcage, knocking her backwards. Erin twisted experimentally, wincing as her ribs reminded her of the force he'd put behind the blow, resting in the corner for a moment.

She springboarded off the turnbuckle as Big Show charged her, hitting him with a flying chuck. He staggered back, and Erin landed a dropkick that sent him back across the ring. When he charged her again, Erin slid under him, jumping onto his back and driving several punches into his head. When he backed into the side of the ring, he flipped her over the ropes, but Erin managed to land in a fighter's crouch. In the ring, Big Show was still slightly woozy, and Erin vaulted back through the middle two ropes and slammed into the backs of his knees, sending him to the mats. Glancing over her shoulder warily, she climbed the corner ropes, but Big Show was on his feet before she could go for the G.I. Jane, and he pressed her overhead effortlessly before throwing her across the ring. Erin hit the mats so hard that she bounced up again, almost rolling out of the ring. She grabbed the bottom rope at the last second, rolling out of the way before he could step on her. He took a swing at her but missed as she bounced onto the top rope, balancing for a moment before vaulting off, landing a Péle kick on Show's temple.

"Now that's original—a springboard Péle kick!" Jerry remarked. Big Show staggered slightly, and Erin went to the ropes once more, springboarding off and bringing her fist down on the top of his skull. He dropped, and Erin climbed to the top of the corner post, poised for the G.I. Jane. She paused, a slow smile spreading across her face. She threw a trigger-finger salute to Jeff, who looked amused, before launching herself from the ropes.

"Shades of Jeff Hardy—oh, my God, Michael, that's a Swanton Bomb! Swanton Bomb!" Jerry bellowed, nearly falling out of his seat with excitement. Next to him, Jeff was grinning as Erin covered Big Show for the pin. "One, two, three—Erin Harris retains her World Heavyweight Championship against the Big Show!" Jeff slid under the bottom rope, grabbing Erin's hand and raising it high. The crowd's cheers turned to sudden boos, and Jeff and Erin turned to look at the ramp, confused. Their confusion was replaced by disgusted resignation as they saw that Edge and CM Punk were running down the ramp, ignoring the crowd's reaction to their appearance.

"What are they doing?" Jerry demanded. Edge and Punk stormed into the ring, and Erin and Jeff turned to face them. Jeff didn't hesitate, hitting Edge with a Whisper in the Winds as soon as he came through the ropes. When Edge staggered back to his feet, Jeff followed it up with a Twist of Fate. Erin sighed, cracking her neck resignedly before slamming her boot into Punk's solar plexus, hauling him into the I.E.D. and slamming him down. Jeff climbed to the top rope, looking straight at Erin as he saluted. Erin laughed, ascending the corner ropes herself and flashing his signature trigger-finger salute in reply. The two aerial superstars took off, soaring through the air—Jeff with a Swanton Bomb, and Erin with a G.I. Jane. "Oh, man, Michael, this is almost too much awesomeness for one ring—we've got a Swanton Bomb and a G.I. Jane at the same time!"

"How much would people play to see this match—Jeff Hardy and Erin Harris against Edge and CM Punk?" Michael asked, excited. Jeff picked up his microphone, shaking his head.

"Much as I'd like to, my neck and my back won't let me wrestle professionally again—not in this lifetime," he remarked. "But—not to sound self-promoting or anything—I'm opening a training gym back home in North Carolina. So for now, I'll live vicariously through the guys I train and leave the wrestling in a pair of good hands like Erin's." Erin blushed, though she was smiling.

"I'll do my best to live up to that recommendation," she told him. Jeff raised her hand once more, slinging his arm around her shoulders as they headed out of the ring.

"So who's up for dinner?" he called as they made their way backstage. "My treat!"

"I'm in," Erin said immediately. Jeff chuckled.

"Ria and I are up for it," Matt added.

"Mind if I join?" John asked. Erin's eyes lit up, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him swiftly.

"I'll go grab a shower real quick, and meet you guys in the parking lot," she said quickly. "I've got a dress in my locker."

"She's a Marine—always ready for anything," she heard John explaining as she ducked into her locker room, grabbing her shower case and scrubbing up quickly. She threw her hair into a quick French twist as it was drying, slipping into a curve-hugging dark blue sweater dress, the cowl neck draping gracefully over her collarbone. Her grey boots completed the look, and Maria smiled at her as she peeked into the room.

"I thought you might need some jewelry," she called, holding out a pair of earrings and a simple silver chain. Erin held up the green dragon pendant Connor had given her for her birthday, clasping it around her neck.

"I could use the earrings, though," she replied, smiling. Maria handed them over gladly.

"Mind zipping me up in the back?" she asked. Her gold minidress was skintight, and Erin helped her into it quickly. "Are you taking the motorcycle?"

"I actually rode here with John—it's starting to get cold, so I take the heated car when I can," she explained. "Plus, he brought the Hemi Charger today, so how could I not ride in that?"

"Good point," Maria laughed.

"Oy, hurry up!" Matt bellowed.

"It's been ten minutes, Mr. Impatience!" Maria yelled back. She and Erin hurried out of the locker room anyway, Maria pausing to tuck one of Erin's curls behind her ear.

"I'm hungry," Matt explained, grinning cheekily.

"You know, I'd almost managed to forget how cranky you get when you're hungry," Jeff remarked dryly. "Almost. So what do y'all want for dinner?"

"Fried chicken," Maria said promptly.

"I've never had fried chicken," Erin mused absently. All eyes turned to her, and Matt's jaw dropped.

"Never had fried chicken?" he managed finally.

"I'm from upstate New York!" she said defensively.

"Love, I'm from West Newbury and I've had fried chicken," John chuckled. "So does this mean KFC?"

"Hell, yeah, it means KFC," Jeff said immediately. "We need to fix this!"

"I love your dress, by the way," John said quietly, skimming his fingers across her bare thigh with a smile. Erin blushed, slipping her hand into his as they headed out.

* * *

A/N: So I tried to make the match as realistic as possible, but I didn't want the chapter to get too serious either…so I brought in Jeff Hardy! Seemed like a good plan. Read and review, please!


	44. Deal With Setbacks

For Erin, the next week was a whirlwind of activity. Tuesday was a signing session and a meeting with a Nike representative, followed by training and lifting with Eve in a Jiu-Jitsu studio. On Wednesday, she signed her first contract with Nike, met with the GoArmy campaign directors, and trained grappling and submission holds with Natalya, Tyson, and David. She took a flight Wednesday night down to Charlotte, and Thursday was spent alternately instructing and training with Jeff, Matt, and their friend Shannon Moore. Friday meant another signing session, this time on an Army base, training with Rey and Christian, and a last-minute contract signing with the GoArmy campaign before heading over to watch Smackdown. Unsurprisingly, she slept almost until noon on Saturday, spending the rest of the day just relaxing with John before joining the other superstars out at a club. She tried, as she did every Sunday morning, to make herself go into the church, but as usual, started having flashbacks as soon as she reached the steps. She said nothing of it to John, though, changing quickly and going for a run instead. By the time Monday rolled around, she was relaxed enough that a training session with Heath, Justin, and Wade was nothing she couldn't handle.

"Hey, Mighty Mouse!" someone called. Erin looked up, sticking her tongue out at Natalya as the Canadian Diva laughed, bouncing in. "How's your week been?"

"Absolutely nuts," Erin replied promptly. "What's up?"

"I want you to come meet the guest host for tonight—come on!" Natalya told her, grabbing her arm and practically dragging her down the hallway. Erin laughed, resigned, waving to the boys as she followed her friend down the hall.

"Uncle Bret!" Natalya called. "Uncle Bret, this is Erin Harris. Erin, my uncle—Bret Hart."

Erin stopped dead in her tracks, staring at The Hitman in awe. Natalya tugged on her arm, and Erin shook her head, blushing as she realized that she'd been staring.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Bret said, shaking her hand.

"The honor's all mine, sir," Erin said immediately. "Sorry—I'm still a little bit star-struck every time I meet a WWE legend. Natalya says I'll get used to it eventually, but I might just be a little bit awed for the next five minutes." Bret laughed at that, shaking his head.

"No problem," he promised. "I'm glad you stopped by, actually. I was hoping you might help me out with an intergender tag-team match this evening—Nat and the boys were supposed to face off against the Usos, but David and Tyson got food poisoning after trying to out-eat each other at a Mexican place. I already got Christian to agree to the match, but would you mind?"

"Of course—I'd love to be in a match with Natalya," Erin agreed, smiling. "That is, as long as you'll go for a Sharpshooter at some point."

"No problem," Natalya laughed. "I think I can manage that."

"Glad to hear it," Bret said. "I've got to go tell Jerry and Michael to update the card, so I'll see you two lovely ladies later." With that, he headed off, and Erin looked back at Natalya, nearly bouncing with giddiness.

"I just met Bret Hart!" she squeaked out. "And we're wrestling together!" The third-generation Diva snickered, shaking her head at Erin's excitement. Erin was too busy grinning to notice, bouncing down the hallway next to Natalya as they headed towards the greenroom.

"Now, I know you haven't seen the Usos in action yet, but Jimmy and Jey fight like their dad—they go aerial when they can, but they're brutal on the ground, too," Natalya said briskly. "Tamina likes to interfere when she can, but I can keep an eye on her no problem."

"I hear you're in," Christian called. Erin grinned. "How you doin', Mighty Mouse?"

"That nickname got around already?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "And yes, I'm in."

"Good," Christian said, ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. "I brought the tape. Nat, how much?"

"Just knuckles to wrists," Natalya replied, adjusting her jacket slightly before holding out her hands.

"I got it, babe," Tyson said quickly, joining them. He still looked somewhat green, and Erin hid a smile. Christian wisely stepped back, turning to Erin instead.

"Mighty Mouse, how about you?" he asked. Erin rolled her eyes, but held out her arms nonetheless.

"Knuckles to mid-forearm, please," she requested politely. "And then I can do you, if you'd like."

"Not sure how John would feel about that, sweetheart," Christian teased. Erin stuck her tongue out at him.

"You know what I meant, you jerk," she grumbled. Christian just laughed, taping her quickly and handing over the roll. "Same for you?" Christian nodded, and Erin taped him carefully. "Tyson, you and David coming down with us?"

"Somebody's got to watch your backs, right?" David said by way of reply. "'Course we're coming. We can manage backup even with Mexican food dancing a samba in my stomach. And Uncle Bret says he wants us at the ramp in ten, so we should get a move on."

"No problem," Erin shrugged. She knelt quickly, lacing her boots up before jogging after the group. "Anybody know whose music we're playing as we go out?"

"Hart Dynasty theme," Natalya informed her. "In honor of Uncle Bret. But Roy managed to make a mashup of our videos, and it looks pretty cool."

"Why, thank you," Roy called. Erin laughed, waving to him. "Although I got a good deal of help from my 14-year-old computer whiz of a son."

"Way to give credit where it's due, Roy," Christian chuckled. "Got it all cued up?" Roy nodded, and Christian offered Erin his arm with an ostentatious bow. Erin slipped her arm through his as the Hart Dynasty theme blasted through the speakers. As soon as they stepped out onto the ramp, they could see Bret at the center of the ring.

"Presenting the team of the first-ever third generation Diva, Captain Charisma, and the G.I. Jane—Natalya, Christian, and Erin Harris!" he announced. The stadium exploded into thunderous applause, and all three superstars were grinning as they headed to the ring. "They are escorted to the ring by the Hart Dynasty, David Hart Smith and Tyson Kidd." Erin released Christian's arm to hi-five her fans as she skipped down to the ring, handing over her hat to a flag-waving little boy. David and Tyson held down the ropes for the ladies as they entered the ring, and Erin saluted proudly as Christian peered out into the crowd for his peeps and Natalya waved from the ropes.

"Presenting their opponents, the team of three third generation wrestlers—Tamina and the Usos!" Bret announced.

"Sounds like a bad band name," Erin stage-whispered. Natalya snorted, and Erin was grinning as she tossed her t-shirt to the crowd and handed her dog tags to the ring attendant.

"And it looks like Jey and Christian will start the match off," Michael commented, seeing the two step into the ring. Erin and Natalya took up their posts at the corner, watching Tamina and Jimmy warily.

"If they tag Tamina in, it has to be you, right?" Erin confirmed. Natalya nodded tersely, and Erin cracked her neck as Christian and Jey crashed together in the center of the ring. Jey struck first, Irish whipping Christian into the corner. Christian came back with a pendulum kick that left Jey doubled over, and he followed it up with a twisting sunset flip. Jey kicked out of the pin at two, clutching his stomach even as he drove his elbow into Christian's jaw, disorienting him long enough that he could tag Tamina in.

"Go get 'em!" Erin cheered as Natalya vaulted into the ring. She nailed Tamina with a flying shoulder block, hitting her with a snap suplex as soon as she was back on her feet. Tamina managed to kick out of her pin attempt, but Natalya pulled her back to her feet once more. Tamina slapped Natalya as hard as she could, and Natalya staggered backwards, one hand on her cheek. Tamina charged her once more, but Natalya met her head on, dragging her into a sitout scoop slam piledriver. Tamina was left woozy, but had enough presence of mind to roll away from the pin attempt. She slammed a kick into Natalya's temple, and Natalya stumbled backwards, dizzy. Tamina threw her to the mat, locking in a sleeper hold around Natalya's neck. Natalya arched her back, trying to get away, but the hold was solidly locked in.

"Come on, Nat!" Tyson called. "Come on, gorgeous. Don't you dare give up."

Natalya stretched out as far as she could, and Erin tagged in on the tip of her fingers. She dove over the top rope, and Tamina scrabbled out of the way. It was Jimmy who joined her in the ring, as Jey was still struggling to stand upright. Erin wasted no time, flying up the turnbuckle and rebounding with a corkscrew senton that sent him to the mats.

"Looks like she's taking a page out of Jeff Hardy's book—that's a Whisper in the Winds right there!" Jerry remarked, grinning.

"He must have rubbed off on her after that match last week," Michael chuckled. Erin dragged Jimmy to the corner, climbing the turnbuckle. She grinned at the crowd, saluting from the top rope as she crouched, ready to spring. She felt her feet leave the ropes, felt herself extending midair—and felt something catch her ankle. She flew backwards, twisting, and her neck struck every rope on the way down before slamming into the apron. She hit the floor hard, unmoving, and stayed there.

"Michael, that's Jack Swagger—and he's just taken out World Heavyweight Champion Erin Harris!" Jerry announced, sounding horrified. "That attack is just completely unprovoked, and she hasn't even moved yet."

Erin groaned, clutching her neck. Jack stood over her, breathing heavily, chest heaving. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Tyson and David were busy fighting off the Miz and Alex Riley.

"That title is mine," he growled, hauling her upright. Erin could barely manage to get her hands up to fend him off feebly. He threw her into the ring, and she flinched as her head bounced off the mats. Jimmy dragged her to the corner, and Jey vaulted over his twin's head from the top rope, landing on top of her. Erin could only lie there as he pinned her, still clutching her neck. She didn't get up when the referee rang the bell, or when Tamina raised Jimmy's and Jey's hands high. She hadn't so much as twitched even after the ring was cleared. Natalya, her forehead bleeding from a chairshot that had only mostly missed her, helped Christian up, and both slowly made their way over, concerned.

"Jerry, I think something might be seriously wrong—I've never seen Erin stay down so long," Mike remarked, worried. In the ring, Erin could barely breathe from the pain. "It looks like the EMTs are on their way down, and I think that's—that's John Cena right behind them! He must really be worried."

Erin didn't move as the EMTs flooded the ring, sliding an immobilization board underneath her and strapping on a neck brace.

"Miss Harris, can you hear us?" one of them called, tapping her shoulders.

"Yes," Erin rasped. "I'm injured, not unconscious, dipshit. And stop tapping. It hurts." The EMT looked surprised, but John just looked relieved and slightly amused.

"We're going to keep you still until we can get you to the hospital," the EMT explained. Erin rolled her eyes, annoyed.

"Second time this year," she grumbled. "Fine. Let's go. The faster we get there, the faster I get back to training." John couldn't help but laugh, helping the EMTs move her onto a stretcher.

"You know, you're the most pragmatic person we've ever met when it comes to injuries," the EMT told her.

"No, I'm just in pain. And it's making me cynical, pissed off, and impatient," Erin replied crankily. "So can we please go to the hospital already?"

"Dr. Porcelan says she'll meet us there," one of the other EMTs called, helping load her into the ambulance. "We're good to go."

Erin's arms remained crossed over her chest as they rode to the hospital, and John couldn't help but smile despite her injury.

"I'm tempted to ask if we're there yet, but I'm pretty sure someone will accuse me of being childish if I do," she said finally.

"Nope," the EMT informed her cheerfully. "We're here. Hold still."

"Like I could move if I wanted to," Erin grumbled as they unloaded her.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of x-rays, CAT scans, and MRIs, followed by neurological tests and function tests. John left only long enough to pick up sandwiches for both of them from the cafeteria, and was back with her by the time Dr. Porcelan had finished looking at her results.

"How bad is it, Doc?" John asked, easing onto the examination table next to Erin. Erin looked up expectantly, wincing as the motion made her neck sore. Dr. Porcelan fitted her with a hard collar, checking the fit before taking a seat across from them.

"You separated your vertebrae when you hit the apron," Dr. Porcelan explained. "You strained several neck muscles, nearly herniated two disks, and you're beyond lucky you didn't end up with a cervical fracture."

"So when do I go back?" Erin asked, impatient.

"You're out this week. And if you're lucky, you might be able to start exercising next week. _Maybe_," Dr. Porcelan said sternly. Erin swore soundly in English and Arabic, and John raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Don't give me that, young lady. Normally, I'd tell you you'd be out for a month, but I know you'd ignore me. We'll be doing every possible treatment we can. You'll be in a hard collar this week, then a soft collar after that. Abe just so happens to be a back and neck specialist, so he'll be doing all of your rehab."

"I'm wrestling at Night of Champions," Erin informed her stubbornly. "That's not negotiable." Dr. Porcelan just shook her head, resigned, as Erin hopped down from the table.

"And no motorcycle!" she called after her. Erin threw up a sarcastic salute without turning around.

"Need a ride?" John asked as she came out of the examination room. Erin went to nod, only to find that she couldn't move her neck that way.

"Yeah," she said, sighing.

"Want a back massage later?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Yeah," Erin repeated, pouting. John chuckled, and she slipped her hand into his. A smile appeared on John's face as they left.

* * *

A/N: Stupid Jack Swagger…he really annoys me. Way too pompous. I know that neck injuries take way longer to heal than I talked about, but I should be getting back to once-a-week updates soon…hopefully. Read and review, please!


	45. Compromise

"Morning, sunshine," John said cheerfully.

"I hate not going running in the morning," Erin said grumpily, trying to snuggle back under the sheets. She gasped in pain as spasms wracked her neck, clenching the pillow with all her strength to keep from crying out. John was there with Advil immediately, holding her head steady as he helped her upright.

"Are you alright, beautiful?" he asked quietly, smoothing her hair carefully. Erin's eyes widened, and she pushed him off as she sprinted to the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before being violently sick from the pain. She clung to the sides of the toilet just to keep from passing out, and John ran in after her, pulling her hair back and holding her up. "I'm taking you back to the hospital. You need something stronger than Advil, or you're not going to be able to move at all."

"I don't wan—" Erin started, her voice slightly slurred. She turned back to the toilet as she threw up again, looking absolutely miserable. "Okay." John scooped her up, grabbing a plastic bag for her as they left. Erin gripped it tightly as he set her down on the passenger seat, peeling out of the parking lot and flying through the city streets, ignoring the honks of the drivers he cut off.

"John, I can walk fine," she said quietly as he parked quickly, opening her door as though to carry her again. "I just need to move slow. Can you—can you give Dr. Porcelan a call? She should know if anything changes."

"I'll meet you inside," John promised, watching her carefully as she made her way to the front desk, still clutching the plastic bag.

After speaking to Dr. Porcelan, John made his way over to the receptionist.

"I'm looking for Erin Harris, do you know what room—" he started. He smiled wryly, hearing raised voices. "Never mind. I found her." He followed the voices down a hallway, watching from the doorway as Erin argued with the doctor.

"I told you, I'm straight edge!" she was saying. "I don't take painkillers."

"Either you can take the injury-appropriate medication I'm prescribing you, or you can deal with the kind of pain that brought you here for the next two weeks or so," the doctor retorted. "Your choice entirely."

"Erin, you should listen to him," John said quietly, slipping into the room. "You said you're finding any way you can to compete at Night of Champions. If the right medical treatment is taking prescription painkillers, then you take prescription painkillers." Erin was silent for a long moment, biting her lip in thought. Finally, she nodded, holding out her hand for the scrip.

"Give me the pills," she sighed, rubbing her face wearily. "I'll do what I have to." The doctor nodded approvingly, handing over the scrip. "I know you're right. I just feel like I'm betraying…something. Myself, maybe."

"Love, what's the purpose of straight edge? Why do people do it?" John asked gently.

"To—to be the best you can, to keep your body in its best shape," Erin said, confused.

"Isn't that what you're doing?" John prompted. Erin looked up at him, a small smile spreading across her face.

"How did I find such an incredibly smart boyfriend?" she asked, and John laughed, leaning forward to kiss her softly.

"Just got lucky, I guess," he told her, helping her out the door. "We'll stop at CVS and get that filled, maybe pick up some IcyHot for you, alright? And if I remember correctly from what I read about straight-edge online, you're allowed to take prescription medications anyway."

"I know," Erin said sheepishly. "I just try to follow straight-edge ideals as strictly as possible. Minus the caffeine thing."

"There are people who are straight-edge who don't drink anything with caffeine?" John asked, sounding horrified at the prospect.

"Not even chocolate," Erin told him, climbing into the passenger seat. "I know. Some people are crazy. And then there are the ones who go vegan, too, but I absolutely refuse to give up the joy of eating steak."

"And rightly so!" John agreed, mock-solemn. That got a smile out of her as they pulled up to the pharmacy. "I'll get this filled. You stay here." He left the engine running, and Erin fiddled with the radio before giving up and putting in John's CD instead. Ten minutes later, John was back with her prescription, IcyHot patches, and a box of chocolates. Erin laughed, and he winked at her before placing a patch just below her neck brace. Just as she leaned in for a thank-you kiss, her phone rang. John grimaced, and Erin smiled apologetically as she answered the call.

"Erin Harris," she said, pausing to listen. "Of course, Mr. McMahon. I can be there in ten m minutes." As she hung up, she glanced over at John. "Can you drop me off at the stadium?"

"Well, aren't you fancy, meeting with the chairman himself," John commented, teasing. "Of course, love. Any idea how long you'll be there?"

"No, but I can walk back—it's only four blocks back to the hotel, so I'm really not too worried," she assured him.

"I know better than to argue with you when you use that tone, so I won't," he replied. Erin laughed as they pulled out, arriving at the stadium in moments. "I'll see you later, love."

Erin leaned over to kiss him swiftly before getting out, walking carefully to avoid jarring her neck but heading down to the chairman's office quickly. She knocked once, waiting for him to look up.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she said politely.

"You know, you might be the only superstar on this whole roster who calls me 'sir'," Vince mused. Erin smiled slightly.

"Force of habit," she replied, shrugging. Vince chuckled.

"Actually, I have somewhat of a favor to ask you," he said, straightening his tie. "We booked the Kardashian sisters to host this week's Raw, but they cancelled last minute. That leaves me in need of a guest host. And since we've got all of three days until the next episode, I need someone who's familiar with the show and can keep things running smoothly." Erin nodded, still listening. Vince raised his eyebrows, looking at her. "That's where you come in."

"You mean—you mean you want to let me host Raw?" Erin asked, a slow smile spreading over her face. Vince nodded, and Erin's smile broadened into a full-on grin. "Absolutely, sir!"

"Fantastic," Vince said, turning back to the files on his desk. "The only matches we have set are a triple-threat match between Sheamus, Triple H, and Jack Swagger and Miz versus Evan Bourne. You'll get to set the rest."

"Thank you so much, sir," Erin said firmly, shaking his hand. "You won't regret this."

"I'm sure not," Vince replied, already back at work. "I'll see you Monday."

Erin was halfway down the hall when he called her name, and she turned carefully.

"I realized I'd forgotten something," Vince told her, shaking his head and chuckling. "We've got a Diva making her return on Monday, and it's up to you to decide what kind of match she gets. Maybe the two of you could grab lunch?"

"Not a problem, sir," Erin replied cheerfully. "I've got time now, honestly. Who is it, by the way? I know there were a few out with injuries—"

"It's Melina Perez," Vince interrupted. "She should be down in catering if you want to go speak with her."

"Right away, sir," Erin said, sliding out of the chair and making her way down the hall.

"You look cheerful today," someone called. Erin turned, smiling, to see Rey making his way down the hall.

"I haven't seen you in forever, Rey!" she said, laughing as he hugged her. "How've you been? How's Alia, and Dom?"

"Alia and Dom are great," Rey said, leaving his arm over the younger superstar's shoulders as they headed down the hallway. "They keep asking when you're going to come visit. You should come over for dinner sometime."

"Anytime you like, Rey," Erin promised. "Where are you off to?"

"Heading home, actually—I just finished up a meeting with Vince," Rey replied, smiling. "After Night of Champions, I'll be officially drafted to Raw." Erin squeaked in her excitement, and Rey laughed. "How about you?"

"I'm meeting with Melina—she's making her comeback the night I host Raw," Erin explained. "We've got to go over when she comes in, who she's facing, all that."

"Well, I won't hold you up, but I meant it about coming over for dinner," Rey told her. "I know we're in San Diego next week for Raw and Smackdown—why don't you come over Tuesday at 5?"

"Alright, Rey," Erin agreed. "I'll see you later, alright?" She waved cheerfully to Rey as she headed into catering, catching sight of Melina immediately.

"You must be Erin," the Latina Diva called, waving her over. "Melina Perez. Mel," she introduced herself, and Erin smiled.

"Erin Harris. Just Erin," she said, shrugging. "I'm really glad to finally meet you. The guys in my squad—you were always their favorite, especially with that ring entrance." Melina laughed, blushing. "I'm guessing you get that a lot."

"Well, I have to say the pleasure's all mine—you've been lots of fun to watch in the ring while I was recovering. We needed a new kick-ass girl in the WWE," Melina replied. "So I hear you're hosting Raw on Monday?"

"Well, I can't exactly wrestle, so they had to find something to do with me," Erin remarked wryly, pointing to her ever-present neck brace. "As far as your match goes, I was thinking a three-on-three tag team match? Maybe you, Kelly, and Tiffany against Jillian, Maryse, and Tamina? I can't stand those three, by the way. Jillian just—ugh. That's about all I've got to describe her. And Maryse is just a total bitch, and Tamina is just…weird. And not the good kind of weird, either."

"You're preaching to the choir, sister," Melina laughed. "And that sounds fantastic."

"Great!" Erin said agreeably. "That was pretty much it, honestly. Anything else you wanted to go over?"

"I think I'm good," Melina replied. "Want to go grab lunch? You can catch me up on all the new gossip."

"I don't know how good I'll be for gossip," Erin warned, but Melina just shrugged, linking arms with her as they headed out.

"So we can just enjoy some good lunch, then," she said decisively. "Come on. My treat for the new girl." Erin gave in, laughing, and followed her out.

Lunch with Melina was an enjoyable affair. To Erin's surprise and Melina's delight, she had plenty of interesting tidbits to share—everything from the new backstage relationships to feuds between superstars. Melina was happy to talk about her physical therapy experiences, and both girls were smiling by the time they'd hashed out all the details of Melina's return.

If it weren't for the neck brace, Erin would have been skipping as she left. As it was, there was a distinctly cheerful bounce in her step, and even the downpour that hit as she was two blocks away from the hotel couldn't dampen her spirits.

"Honey, I'm home!" she called teasingly. She heard John's chuckle from the bedroom, and stripped off her sopping-wet shirt casually as she walked in. "It's raining."

"I noticed," John replied, smiling. Erin shrugged into one of John's oversized sweatshirts, leaving her wet jeans and tee to dry in the bathroom. "So did you have a good day?" Erin nodded, laughing as he pulled her onto his lap. "Well, that makes two of us."

"You go first," Erin said, turning around so that she could straddle his lap. John opened his mouth to start but stopped, chuckling, distracted as she slid her hands under his shirt.

"Somehow, you manage to make that both adorable and really, really, sexy," he informed her, slipping his hands around her waist and hooking his thumbs under the waist of her jeans. Erin laughed, shifting her hips in a way that made him groan. "Ok, that part's just sexy. Can you stop so I can get on with my good news?"

"Fine," Erin sighed, settling back in his arms. "Go ahead."

"Steph gave me a raise," John announced, grinning. Erin gasped, clapping one hand over her mouth in surprise. Ignoring his previous request, she hugged him tightly.

"Congratulations!" she cheered, laughing. "I can't think of anybody who deserves it more than you, love." John pulled her down for a kiss, careful of her brace, and she complied gladly. "Now, how about your good news?" he asked finally, smiling up at her.

"Melina's making her comeback on Monday, I'm Raw's guest host for next week," Erin told him, her smile as broad as his. John didn't bother with an answer, opting instead to pull her down for another kiss.

"Does this mean I get to kick Mike's ass?" he asked cheekily. Erin laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Sadly, he's already facing Evan Bourne," she informed him. "And I can't play favorites too much. But I'll try and get you a good match, alright?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," John replied. "So how about we go out to dinner to celebrate this momentous day?"

"Deal," Erin agreed, kissing him one last time before getting changed.

* * *

A/N: So you might be able to tell that I wrote this chapter a while ago…I tend to write my stories out of order and then fill spaces in. This one was written early. Read and review, please!


	46. Step Up to the Plate

Erin arrived at Raw, as usual, with plenty of time to spare. She found Stephanie in her locker room, and wasn't entirely surprised by that fact.

"Hey, Steph," she said cheerfully. "Come to wish me luck before my big hosting debut?

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you don't need luck. I've got a surprise for you, actually," Stephanie replied, smiling. "We've had an incredibly high demand for these, and we finally got them on the market. They go on sale on tomorrow morning, but we thought you should have the first one." She handed over a folded t-shirt, and Erin grinned as she opened it.

"I get my own t-shirt!" she laughed, holding it up. The fitted black tee had the "Semper Fi" logo emblazoned across the stomach, with a shadow figure in combat gear saluting a waving flag above it.

"Check out the back," Stephanie urged. Erin laughed as she saw "Don't Tread on Me" stamped just below the back of her collar. "What do you think?"

"I love it," Erin replied. "It's perfect. If I didn't think I'd look shamelessly self-promoting, I'd wear it tonight." Stephanie snorted.

"I put the other two designs we've got for you in your locker room. And I know you're going to get all embarrassed, but I swear we only started making these because of the demand for them—G.I. Jane workout sports bras." Erin rolled her eyes, but Stephanie just laughed. "Go head down to wardrobe and makeup. Sherry says she has a pair of jeans that she's been saving just for you."

"Yes, ma'am," Erin grinned, waving as she left. She was careful on the stairs down to the basement, holding the railing in order to keep her neck as still as possible. "Hey, Sherry!"

"Hey, champ!" Sherry called, smiling. "Long time, no see."

"Wrestling," Erin said by way of explanation, shrugging. Sherry chuckled.

"Here. These are absolutely perfect for you," Sherry informed her, handing over a pair of dark-washed skinny jeans. "Not to be vulgar, but I'm pretty sure they'll make your ass look fantastic. Go try them on, and I'll grab your shirt and boots."

"I get boots?" Erin asked, her voice muffled as she ducked behind the curtain. "Ooh, you're right. I love these jeans."

"Glad you appreciate my taste," Sherry laughed, handing over an indigo one-sleeved tunic top that skimmed across her chest, leaving her collarbone and shoulder bare beneath her brace. High-heeled black boots completed her look, and Sherry smiled approvingly. "Head on over to makeup. They've got your jewelry, too."

"Oh, Sherry, are you sending me a new one?" someone called. Erin glanced up, seeing a pink-haired pixie in a black minidress, barefoot despite the cold cement floor. "Hi, sweetie. You're Erin, right?"

"That's me," Erin said cheerfully.

"I'm Kimmy," the girl replied, ushering her over to a chair. "I absolutely love your style, by the way. I've a necklace that will go perfectly with that shirt. Ooh, and those bangles I just bought, and those chandelier earrings…right here, that's right." The necklace Kimmy had picked out was a winding gold snake on a chain, with bangles in gold, silver, and bronze to match. "I'll just do real light makeup for you—I know that's your thing."

"I love your hair, by the way," Erin commented, closing her eyes as Kimmy went to work. "So how did you get involved here?"

"Kelly—my big sister—got me the job after she got signed," Kimmy explained. "Making people look good is my passion, just like being a Diva is hers."

"Well, you should make sure you come see her match tonight," Erin said, hopping up as Kimmy patted her shoulder, letting her know she was done. "Might have a surprise or two in store for you both."

"Now I can't wait to see it!" Kimmy giggled. "I guess I'll see you soon, then. Toodles!" She waggled her fingers at Erin as she left.

"Hey—we were just looking for you," Steve said, pulling a sharp u-turn as he caught sight of her. "You've got your cold open planned, right?"

"I even managed to not throw in any of my terrible puns," Erin teased, hooking her arm in his as they headed towards the staging area. "What do you think of the outfit, by the way?"

"I think I look like the luckiest guy around right now, and every guy here should be jealous of John Cena," Steve replied promptly. "I'm off to make stuff blow up. Sadly, I have to do it in a controlled fashion. Break a leg! Or—no, don't. Knowing you, you might actually break a leg." Erin laughed, shaking her head.

"Miss Harris!" someone called. Erin turned, seeing one of the techs. "Here's your microphone. We're on in five, so we need you at the ramp."

"Well, here goes, then," Erin said, taking a deep breath.

"What, you're going out there without a good-luck kiss?" John asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. Erin laughed, turning to face him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she promised, standing on her tiptoes. John smiled, lifting her up for a kiss that left her spinning long after he put her down. The soundboard operators hid smiles as she smoothed her shirt, flustered.

"Alright, Miss Harris, the opening clip is just finishing, we're cueing up the pyrotechnics," the tech announced. "You're on in five, four, three, two—" He pointed to her, and Erin flashed a quick smile at John before making her way out onto the ramp, "Bleed It Out" echoing over the stadium.

"N'Orleans!" Erin called. "How y'all doing tonight?" The crowd roared, and Erin grinned. "So apparently, I should get injured more often," she commented, smiling wryly. "Seeing as the last time I got injured, I got to be a guest commentator, and this time, I get to be the special guest host of Monday Night Raw!" She waited for the cheers to die down. "Now, I'm sure you're all wondering about the brace you've seen me wearing for the past week, and why I was wearing it. My neck's a little bit messed up, and I'll have to wrestle in a brace at Night of Champions—but who cares, because I'm still wrestling at Night of Champions!" She grinned at the crowd's response before going on. "So I know y'all don't want to have me just standing up in the ring and talking, so don't you worry—I've got some matches all set up, and I'm pretty sure you'll like them. We're going to start the night off by giving you guys a match I know you'd all love to see: a Divas six-woman tag team match!" She couldn't help but laugh at the crowd's enthusiastic response.

"I'll introduce these lovely ladies one at a time, so that you can admire them one by one," Erin said, grinning teasingly. The crowd cheered wildly, and Erin laughed. "Introducing first, making her non-intergender match debut, the powerful Tamina!"

Tamina came out in her usual all-black ensemble, escorted by Jimmy and Jey. She was scowling ferociously, but Erin just rolled her eyes. "Her first partner—the…musical…Jillian!"

Jillian's ring attire was an eye-searing shade of pink, and Erin blinked, exaggerating the motion for the crowd. "Rounding out their team is the French-Canadian beauty, Maryse!" Erin didn't even glance in Maryse's direction, irritating the haughty Diva. She snapped her fingers at Erin, who rolled her eyes and brushed her off. "And now for the challengers: introducing first, the girl so nice they had to name her twice—Kelly Kelly!"

Kelly bounced down to the ring, waving to the crowd before vaulting into the ring. Erin laughed as Kelly hugged her before heading back to her corner, shaking her head. "And her first partner, the other half of the Blondterage—the lovely Tiffany!" Down the ramp camp Tiffany, skirt swirling as she twirled into the ring to kiss Erin's cheek.

"Ok, be honest—how many guys out there wish they were me right now?" Erin asked teasingly. She winked to the camera, bright and cheery despite her neck brace.

"Now I'm wondering who the third member of this team could be, honestly," Michael remarked. "I mean, there's just so many Divas to choose from, and it could really be any one of them. Maybe Eve?" Erin glanced down at him, waggling her eyebrows.

"Now, I'm sure you're all incredibly curious about who the final member of this team will be," Erin said, grinning. "Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging. The third member of the team, making her return to Raw: she's the WWE's most flexible superstar, and no stranger to the spotlight—the absolutely incredible Melina!"

The crowd's response as Melina skipped out from behind the curtain was nearly deafening, and Erin laughed. Out came the red carpet and the photographers, and Melina strutted down to the ring. She, too, hugged Erin, blowing a kiss to the crowd.

"Okay, now you're all _really_ jealous," Erin laughed. "Ladies, this match is set for one fall. Let's have a good, clean match, alright?"

With that, she headed backstage, letting out a sigh of relief only once no one could hear her. Over the course of the evening, she announced several more matches, commented on the match between Evan Bourne and the Miz, and, in an exceptional display of self-control, managed not to smack Michael Cole when he fawned over the Miz. Hunter informed her afterwards that the show was a complete and total success, and she was smiling proudly as she picked up her bag from the locker room. She nearly ran into Steph on her way out.

"Hey, Steph," she said, laughing. "What's up?"

"What is it with you and men in uniform asking after you?" Stephanie asked teasingly. "There's a guy who wanted to say hi. Says he's an old high school friend." Erin looked confused, but shrugged.

"Sure, send him in," she said agreeably. As Stephanie headed out, someone else ducked in. He wasn't wearing a uniform, but his dog tags hung outside of black buttondown, worn over a pair of dark-washed jeans and black boots. She couldn't see his face, hidden as it was behind the brim of his fedora, and he tipped it to her before flipping it off, spinning it on one finger.

"Hey there, little lady," he drawled. Erin grinned, recognizing him immediately.

"Remy!" she exclaimed, jumping up to hug him. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you know Aiden got me hooked on WWE back in Iraq, and I was watching one day and saw you up there," Remy told her, setting her down with a smile. "So of course I've been braggin' to everybody that the girl I took to her senior prom is now the World Heavyweight Champion, and when I found out Raw was coming to N'Orleans, I had to come visit and see how my best girl was doin'."

"I'm doing good, Remy," Erin said cheerfully. "Can I grab you anything to drink?"

"If you've got lemonade, I'd love some," Remy replied. Erin nodded, tossing him a bottle from the fridge. "So how's that boy of yours treatin' you? He good to you?"

"The best," Erin assured him, her eyes lighting up. "He's—he's amazing. And how about you? You found a girl to make an honest man of you yet?"

"Funny story, actually," Remy said, chuckling. "I met this girl—Lily—in the middle of a hurricane, actually—I opened my own club when I came back stateside, and she got caught outside when the storm started, so we just waited out the storm together, got to talking, all that. I proposed to her on Mardi Gras, and we're getting married same day next year."

"That is absolutely adorable," Erin told him, smiling. "Good for you, Remy. Hey—we're down here all week—you and Lily want to go on a double date with me and John?"

"Sounds good to me," Remy agreed. "Tell you what—why don't you guys come to my place sometime? It's called Gambit, on the corner of Bourbon and Bienville. Everything's on me."

"We're here until Smackdown finishes recording, so maybe tomorrow night?" Erin suggested. "Make it a double date?"

"You got it, chérie," Remy promised.

"Hey—why don't you come meet John?" Erin offered. "I'm sure he'd love to say hi. You could get a few signed photos to post on your wall or something from the other guys, too."

"Deal," he replied, and she grinned as she led him down the hallway. "How've you been?"

"I've been fantastic," she said giddily. "I'm—I'm living my dream, honestly. I think I'm one of very few people in the world who can honestly say I have no regrets."

"Well, good for you," Remy told her, squeezing her shoulder in a one-armed hug. He kept his arm around her shoulders as they paused backstage.

"Hey, Erin!" Morrison called. He stopped, his eyes sliding to Remy. "Who's this?"

"Remy LeBeau, John Morrison. John Morrison, my very good friend Remy—he and my brother were in the same unit," Erin explained. "He owns a restaurant on Bourbon street now."

"Any friend of Erin's is a friend of ours—welcome," Morrison said, visibly relaxing as he shook Remy's hand. "I might have to check out that restaurant."

"See if you can get a bunch of the guys and Divas to go," Erin suggested. "We could sign pictures, if you want to post them, Remy."

"Sure, I'd post 'em," Remy told her, chuckling. "Weren't we trying to find John, though?"

"Right, sorry," she apologized, waving to Morrison as they left. She spotted John down the hallway. "Hey, Superman!"

"Hey there, beautiful," John replied, kissing her swiftly. "Who's your friend?"

"Remy, John; John, Remy," Erin introduced. "Remy was in Aiden's squad. He took me to senior prom."

"I hear you're treatin' her well," Remy said, shaking John's hand firmly. "Take care of my little sister, y'hear?" To Erin's relief, John nodded respectfully as he clasped Remy's hand.

"He's got a restaurant—I thought we might go there tomorrow night," she suggested.

"I'd love to," John told her, smiling. Erin's smile matched his, and she leaned against him as he took her hand. "Why don't we all go grab something to eat right now? Maybe Remy can point us towards a good bar."

"Let me give Lucy a call, and I'll have her meet us at the Avenue Pub on St. Charles," Remy said.

"You think they'll let you keep the outfit?" John asked, pointing to the clothes Sherry had given her. Erin's eyes widened.

"Give me five minutes," she replied, ducking into her locker room. She left the clothes neatly folded by the door, changing into a strapless blue maxidress and gladiator sandals before joining John and Remy outside. "Did you hear from Lucy?"

"She'll grab us a table—here, want to see a picture?" Remy offered, pulling a photo out of his wallet. The girl in the picture was petite and delicate, with a dreamer's blue eyes and long black hair.

"She's beautiful, Remy," Erin told him, smiling. "What do you think, John?"

"Mmm," John said, shrugging noncommittally. "Hey, we'll follow you over there, okay, Remy?" Remy nodded, looking amused, and headed for his car as Erin and John followed.

"Just 'mmm'?" Erin asked quietly.

"She wasn't you," John told her, just as quiet, his words for her ears alone. "That's why I said 'mmm' instead of—" he leaned closer, his breath hot on her neck. "_Mmmm-hmmm_." Erin shivered, drawing in a shaky breath, and John chuckled at her expression before kissing her soundly. "Come on. Let's go have some fun."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I just made more X-Men references…I'm a nerd, sue me. Or don't, because I have no money and it wouldn't do anything for you. But please read and review!


	47. Kick Ass NameTaking Optional

Dinner the next night was thoroughly enjoyable. The superstars and Divas who came took up three tables, and all of them were happy to autograph pictures for Remy's walls. Erin and Christian were persuaded to sing a karaoke duet, followed by several more entertaining performances from other superstars. Lucy turned out to be as much of a sweetheart as Remy had described, and she gladly took Erin and the Divas on a shopping tour of the city on Wednesday.

On Wednesday night, John had a meeting with creative, and Erin grabbed dinner at a local café with Beth. Thursday was spent almost entirely with John, and she helped Beth pack up for a trip with Ted before helping John pack up to head to his parents' for the weekend on Friday. Still limited in terms of exercise, she planned to spend the weekend reading, playing guitar, and relaxing, only heading out for the next week's Raw in Georgia on Sunday evening. On her way out of the stadium, after stopping back to grab a few forgotten items, she ran into Rey and Alia.

"You two look in a bit of a hurry," she laughed. "Need any help?"

"Hey, Erin, I have a huge favor to ask," Rey said hastily.

"What's up, Rey?" Erin asked, concerned.

"Dom has his junior science conference this weekend, and Tiffany was supposed to watch Aliyah while Angie and I went, but she's got a really bad case of the flu," Rey explained. "Is there any way you might be able to keep an eye on her for the weekend? I know it's a pretty big imposition, and it's really last minute, but—"

"Of course!" Erin replied instantly. "I really don't mind having her stay over. Beth's with Ted for the weekend, and John headed home. I've got a whole suite to myself. It's really too big for a girl as small as me."

"Thanks so much, Erin," Rey said gratefully. "You hear that, Aliyah? You get to sleep over with Erin tonight."

"Can we watch movies and eat popcorn?"Aliyah asked, excited.

"And paint nails, and braid each others' hair, if you'd like," Erin laughed. "Want to grab your bag?" Aliyah nodded eagerly, ducking into her father's locker room. "Just in case—because I love being over-prepared—have you been feuding with anyone recently?"

"The Straight Edge Society, but they don't mess with _mi familia_ anymore," Rey replied. "Is Randy off your back?"

"I think so," Erin said slowly. "I mean, I feel like there's closure, and like we finished something that needed to be finished. I don't expect to have any more trouble with him."

"I think you're right," Rey agreed. "I mean, your feud with him goes way deeper than most of the ones you see in the WWE, but you two seem to have really concluded it. It felt…final."

"That's the word," Erin said, smiling as Aliyah darted back out, bag over shoulder.

"Okay, Erin. Let's go!" Aliyah ordered, bouncing up and down in her eagerness.

"No separation anxiety with this one," Rey said, ruffling Aliyah's black curls fondly. "You're a big girl now, right, _hija_?"

"Yes, _papi_," Aliyah replied, looking up at her father adoringly.

"Be good for Erin," Rey reminded her, kissing his daughter's forehead. "And have a good weekend, alright? Thanks again, Erin."

"Go on, then," Erin laughed. "And it's no problem at all, Rey. Tell Dom good luck from me! Oh—almost forgot. Are you alright with Aliyah riding on the motorcycle with me if we end up going anywhere? If not, I've got no problem grabbing us a cab—"

"I know you're a good driver, Erin," Rey laughed. "Aliyah would love it, I'm sure." Rey kissed Aliyah's forehead one last time, and Erin took Aliyah's bag. "Ready to go?" Aliyah nodded, grinning, slipping her hand into Erin's. "So what do you want to do first?"

"I don't know, what do you want to do?" Aliyah asked.

"Oh, don't go there—I can play that game for hours," Erin replied, raising her eyebrows. "How about this, though: dinner, then a movie, and I'll braid your hair and we'll do nails while we watch the movie?"

"Okay," Aliyah said happily. "Can we watch Finding Nemo? It's my favorite."

"I love that movie!" Erin exclaimed, and Aliyah giggled. "Of course we can watch it. We have to go get popcorn, though, because I'm out. And we really need some nail polish, too, because I don't have any."

"I like this plan," Aliyah agreed, swinging Erin's hand cheerfully. "Can we get pink?"

"_You_ can get pink," Erin laughed. "I think I'll go for silver."

"No, go for gold! It matches your championship belt," Aliyah instructed her, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"You're the boss," Erin replied, shaking her head. "Alright. Let's make a trip out. We really don't need the motorcycle, honestly. We can walk. I'd offer you a piggyback ride, but I don't think that's a good idea right now, do you?" Aliyah nodded solemnly, and Erin smiled down at her. "Skipping, though—I think we could manage skipping, right?"

Aliyah giggled as they bounced down the stairs and out the door, waving to everyone they passed. Most of the passers-by seemed amused by her enthusiasm, although Erin received several strange looks—for her neck brace or for the fact that Aliyah looked young enough to be her daughter but had no resemblance to her, she wasn't sure.

There was a drugstore on the corner, and Erin directed Aliyah to pick out nail polishes for them as she grabbed popcorn and soda. Erin was noticed by several of the store's customers, but they managed to pay and get out before anyone could ask her to sign an autograph. Aliyah continued to skip her way back to the hotel, while Erin kept to a slightly more sedate pace.

"Okay," Erin said decisively, plopping onto her bed. "We have Finding Nemo on demand. We have popcorn. We have soda. We have nail polish. Anything I'm forgetting?"

"Nope!" Aliyah said cheerfully. "Which means movie time!" Erin chuckled, cueing up the movie as Aliyah took a seat against the base of the bed. She threw several pillows to the little girl, making Aliyah giggle as she was bowled over. Erin couldn't help but laugh, tossing the popcorn into the microwave and cracking open the sodas as she took a seat next to Aliyah.

"Nail polish, please?" Aliyah asked. Erin handed over her chosen shade—a shade of bright pink that would make Jillian proud. While Aliyah remained engrossed in the movie, Erin took the opportunity to fix up the spare bed and fill a bowl with popcorn. "And you have to watch the whole movie too, Erin! And put on nail polish."

"Alright, I surrender," Erin said, throwing up her hands and taking her seat once more. "Want to pass me my nail polish?" Aliyah handed it over, and Erin began to paint her nails.

Fast-forward two hours, and a completely awake Aliyah was still bouncing next to a much more tired Erin.

"Man, now I've got "Just Keep Swimming" stuck in my head," she grumbled, the complaint turning into a yawn as another wave of weariness hit her. Aliyah just giggled, still humming to herself. There was a knock at the door, and both girls looked up.

"It's unlocked!" Erin called, returning her attention to her nails. She looked up, curious, as the door opened, and she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, as she saw the towering figure of Jack Swagger standing in the doorway, cracking his knuckles ominously.

"Aliyah, sweetie, why don't you try on some of the makeup in the bathroom," Erin said, not taking her eyes off Jack for a moment. Aliyah opened her mouth to protest, eyes wide and frightened, but Erin shook her head, surreptitiously slipping her cell phone into Aliyah's hand. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Mr. Swagger and I are going to have a nice chat." When Jack turned to glare at her, Aliyah nearly ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

"You know, you really shouldn't lie to little kids," Jack told Erin. Erin watched him warily, planting herself solidly between the bathroom door and Jack. "Having a nice chat?"

"For the love of God, Jack, think about what you're doing," Erin retorted. "You don't have to do this." Jack ignored her.

"Of course, kids are pretty resilient," he said casually, taking off his jacket and folding it neatly. "She'll probably bounce back after a few weeks or so. Kids forget things like bloody, beat-up babysitters pretty quickly, don't they?" Erin rubbed her face wearily, shaking her head. When she looked up, she didn't look fierce, or angry, or at all ready to fight.

"Jack, I've never begged for anything in my life," she said quietly. "Not when I was in Basic Training and too tired to move, not when I was in a war, not when I could have a thousand times in the past. But I'm begging you now: don't do this. Not here—not tonight. Not in front of Aliyah. I'll face you anytime you want in the ring, out of the ring, in the damn parking lot if you want. But not now." Jack just sneered, rolling up his sleeves.

"Not happening," he replied flatly.

"Jack, if you leave now, I won't say a thing at Raw," Erin went on. "Don't do this. You don't have to do this." Jack shook his head mockingly. Erin sighed, pulling her hair up and cracking her knuckles almost reluctantly.

Just as Jack stepped forward, the door slammed open once more as Tyson, David, Natalya, and—to Erin's surprise—Trish Stratus burst in. Natalya and Trish were in dresses and Tyson and David in sports coats, but all of them looked more than ready to take Jack down.

"Sorry we're late—Tyson and I were out on a double date with David and Trish," Natalya explained, panting slightly as she stepped out of her stilettos. "Looks like we're just in time, though."

"Actually, Jack was just leaving," Erin informed them, crossing her arms as she looked back at him. "Isn't that right, Jack?"

"Yeah," he said finally. "I was just leaving." He grabbed his jacket, shoving by David on his way out. As soon as he was out the door, David slammed it shut behind him, and Erin turned back to the bathroom. Inside, Aliyah had hidden herself inside of the cabinet under the sink, clutching Erin's phone tightly.

"Aliyah?" Erin asked gently. Aliyah's head snapped up, and she dove out of the cabinet, burying her head in Erin's shoulder. "It's alright, sweetheart. He's gone. You're alright."

"I called Nat, just like you told me to," Aliyah told her, her sniffles subsiding. Erin smiled, taking her phone back and erasing the message she'd typed to Aliyah before sending her to the bathroom.

"Well, you should come say hi to her, then," Erin told the little girl, scooping her up with a small groan. "She's outside right now!" Aliyah nodded, and Erin carried her out into the main room.

"Hi, sweetie!" Natalya chirped, crouching down to Aliyah's level. "Pretty exciting night you've had, isn't it?" Aliyah nodded, suddenly shy.

"Thanks, guys," Erin said quietly, settling Aliyah down on the corner of the bed. "Wasn't really sure how I was going to get out of that one."

"Nah, you could've taken him," David assured her. Erin pointed to her neck brace, looking skeptical. "Didn't you pull a gun on Orton one time? Where're you hiding that?"

"I pulled a gun on him because he broke into my cousin's house," Erin told him. "Sure, I've got it with me, but it's in the wall safe. I really don't think I would have had enough time to get it. But even if I had, I was fully prepared to shoot Randy Orton—to hurt, not to kill—if I needed to. I don't think I could have done that to Jack unless there was absolutely no other choice. Also, are you ever going to get around to introducing me to your lovely date, who also happens to be one of my favorite Divas of all time? No offense, Nat."

"Well, it sounds like very little introduction is needed," Trish laughed. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Erin."

"The honor's all mine," Erin insisted, shaking Trish's hand. "I'm so sorry for interrupting your date—I just wasn't sure that I could protect Aliyah. Not with this brace on."

"I saw that match, and I couldn't believe what he pulled," Trish said, shaking her head. "Can't wait to see your match at Night of Champions, though. I hope you're well enough to compete by then."

"If I have anything to say about it, I will be," Erin replied, smiling. "Thanks again, guys. I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am you came when you did."

"Can we make a big pillow fort now?" Aliyah asked, bouncing on the bed. Erin glanced at the door, looking somewhat concerned.

"Worried he'll come back?" Trish asked quietly. Erin nodded. "How about we all go back to my place? Rey knows where my house is—his wife and I go back a ways."

"Are you sure? That's incredibly generous of you, and I wouldn't want to impose—" Erin protested.

"It's not imposing at all," Trish promised. "In fact—why don't we just all have a big sleepover? My sister lives with me, and her daughter is about Aliyah's age."

"Well, in that case," Erin replied, turning to Aliyah. "What do you think?" Aliyah considered it for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Can we make a big pillow fort there?" she asked. Trish laughed.

"You sure know what matters, don't you?" she said, smiling. "We can build a gigantic pillow fort, alright?"

"Okay!" Aliyah said cheerfully.

"Why doesn't Natalya help you pack your bag up, and I'll give your dad a call?" Erin told her. Aliyah nodded obediently, and Erin stepped outside to dial Rey.

"She really takes the whole protect and serve thing seriously, doesn't she?" she heard Tyson remark behind her.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea," Natalya was saying as Erin came back inside.

"Your dad says it's fine if we stay with Trish tonight," she told Aliyah, smiling. "Are you all packed up?" Aliyah nodded.

"You guys can ride with us, if you'd like," David offered. "We've got plenty of room."

"Fine by me," Erin agreed, hoisting her own bag as they headed out.

True to her word, Trish let them build a pillow fort of epic proportions, complete with pillowcase flags and sheet tents. Erin was amused to see that David and Tyson were every bit as excited to build the fort, though they nearly toppled the whole thing in the crossfire of their pillowfight. Natalya and Trish wisely disappeared for an hour or so, returning with two plates of cookies that distracted them all thoroughly. Aliyah and Trish's niece, Kaylie, bonded immediately over a love of the color purple and an annoyance with older brothers. The two had worn themselves out by the time midnight rolled around, and Erin tucked Aliyah into her sleeping bag carefully before joining the other adults in the kitchen.

"You ever thought about having kids?" David asked her. Erin looked up, surprised, accepting a cup of hot chocolate from Natalya.

"Someday, I'd really love to," she replied, after a moment's thought. "Not yet, though. I'm still way too young. Nat, how about you?"

"Whenever I retire," Natalya replied, shrugging. "I'd like to have a few to carry on the Hart family tradition."

"How many is a few?" Tyson asked her, winking cheekily. Natalya just laughed. "Dave-o? You want to have kids someday?"

"Well, it might be a bit hard for me to have kids," David quipped, and Erin laughed. "But yeah—if I find the right woman and it's the right time, I'd like to." In response to Erin's puzzled glance at Trish, he added, "Trish and I are just friends. She's almost like my sister." Erin nodded, understanding.

"But speaking of that, how serious are you and Johnny boy?" David asked. Erin blushed.

"It's not like I've met his family yet or anything, but I feel like—I really trust him, and that's hard for me," Erin admitted. "And he makes me happy, so that's more than enough for me for now. I really want to see what the future holds for us."

"You guys are absolutely adorable, for the record," Natalya told her.

"Even just what we can see onscreen, you guys look adorable," Trish agreed. Erin opened her mouth to reply but dissolved into a yawn. "And here we are, blabbering on when you're exhausted and injured and all. I set you up in the guest bedroom, and you can sleep as late as you want. I can keep an eye on Aliyah if she's up before you."

"Bless you," Erin said wearily, rising with a groan. "Goodnight, everyone. Sorry to be a party pooper and head to bed early." Everyone assured her it was fine as she headed upstairs, not even bothering to change before collapsing into bed.

* * *

A/N: Well, I never like to go too long between awesomely dramatic chapters, so here you are! To my Christian/Christmas-celebrating readers, Merry Christmas; to my Jewish/Hanukkah-celebrating readers, Happy 6th day of Hanukkah; to my Kwanza-celebrating readers, Happy Kwanza, and to anyone whose holiday I've missed, best wishes in the New Year! Read and review, please.


	48. Deal with the Aftermath

When Rey came to pick Alia up at the end of the weekend, it had taken the five of them a solid hour to convince him not to tear Jack apart with his bare hands. He only relented when Erin reminded him that she and John would be more than happy to kick Jack's ass themselves at Hell in a Cell, and he could do whatever he wanted afterwards.

"And I promise to tell the world on Raw," Erin added grimly.

"Good," Rey said flatly. "Erin—thank you for protecting _mi'ija_." Erin held up her hand to stop him.

"Don't thank me—thank these guys," she demurred. "How did Dom do?"

"Took second in his age group," Rey announced proudly, warming to the change in topic. "He and Angie and Alia are heading home, but I'm heading out tonight, taking the flight into Atlanta."

"Hey, same here—want to be my seat-buddy?" she asked, smiling. Rey chuckled, nodding agreeably.

As it turned out, several other superstars were also on their flight, and Cody Rhodes filled the last seat in their row. Much to Erin's surprise and delight, John was waiting for her with a smile at the arrivals gate.

"Hello," she said, smiling in reply. John didn't say anything, preferring to pull her close, dip her back, and kiss her soundly. Several other travelers whistled, and Erin was smiling against John's mouth as he pulled her upright. "What was that for?"

"Just wanted to say that I missed you," he replied innocently. "I'll grab your luggage, too."

"Excellent," Erin said promptly. "Definitely one of the things that boys are good for."

"What's that we're good for?" Morrison asked, passing by.

"Carrying luggage, killing spiders, and cuddling," Erin informed him. Morrison laughed.

"Fair enough," he agreed. Erin twined her fingers through John's as he hoisted her luggage easily.

"So what car did you bring back?" she asked, curious.

"The Hornet," John replied, and Erin grinned wickedly.

"Definitely my second-favorite," she told him.

"Only your second-favorite?" John asked, mock-insulted.

"Come on, I'm a sucker for that Mustang," she replied, and John chuckled.

"Fair enough," he shrugged, helping her into the car. "I got our hotel room, and you can even sleep late tomorrow if you want." Erin gave him a look, and he laughed. "Or you could wake up as early as you usually do, ignore the doctor's advice to do some sort of exercise, and be overly productive with your day."

"Now _that's_ more like it," Erin replied sweetly, leaning over for a quick kiss. John was smiling as they pulled out of the airport parking lot.

"So I got a call from Trish Stratus last night," he started mildly. "Any exciting adventures to share?" Erin smiled, embarrassed, before filling him in on Jack's arrival and their subsequent trip to Trish's house as they headed to the car. "Are you going to call him out tomorrow night?"

"Yup," Erin replied without a moment's pause. "But—can you come out with me though? Just in case he decides to come after me."

"I'll very gladly be your knight in shining armor," he promised, and she smiled, relieved, as he helped her into the car.

"So do we have any plans for the afternoon?" she asked.

"None whatsoever," John replied promptly, pulling out of the parking lot. "How about we curl up on the couch and watch a movie?" Erin's eyes lit up.

"For suggesting that brilliant idea, you get to pick the movie," she told him, and John chuckled.

"I don't know that I ever got a chance to watch my favorite movie with you—Fist of the Northern Star, want to watch that?" he asked.

"I'd love to," Erin told him, smiling. "And I'll make the popcorn. Can we order Shirley Temples from room service?"

"Absolutely," John laughed. "It'll be a regular afternoon party."

"I'll be in a wonderful mood for tonight, then," she remarked. "Hey! They say laughter is the best medicine, so maybe if I'm happier, I'll get better faster."

"I like the thought, G.I. Jane," John replied, smiling. "Keep it in your head, alright?"

"You got it, Superman," Erin said, cracking her neck as they pulled up to the hotel. The valet opened her door before going around to the driver's side, and John loaded her bags onto the bellhop's cart.

"Superman?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing her cheek swiftly. Erin giggled.

"Because you're my superhero," she informed him, smiling impishly. "Besides, I have a nickname. You didn't really have a nice, short, convenient one. Chain-Gang Soldier takes too long to say. Same with Doctor of Thuganomics."

"Fair enough," John chuckled, scooping her up swiftly and tossing her onto the bed as they entered their hotel room. Erin shrieked as he tickled her, laughing even as she managed to wrap her legs around his waist and flip him over. She couldn't quite manage to pull his hands free, giggling as she was, so she twisted until she could distract him with a long kiss. It worked as well as she had expected, and Erin promptly pinned both wrists above his head.

"I win," she informed him, grinning mischievously. John chuckled, lifting himself up enough that he could kiss her in reply.

"Yes, but I'm afraid I can't set up the movie if you keep me here," he informed her. "So I think you'll have to let me up."

"But there's so many fun things I can do with you pinned like this," Erin replied innocently, shifting her hips against his in a way that made him groan.

"Very many fun things, yes, but I thought you wanted to wait until you were married for the really fun things," John managed. Erin blushed, and he laughed. "If you change your mind, I'm not complaining, but I don't want to push you into anything."

"Have I mentioned recently how amazing you are?" she asked, letting go of his wrists and bending down to give him a kiss that was much chaster than her last. She rolled off of him, and John laughed before kissing her in reply.

"I'll call room service if you'll start on the popcorn," he told her, and Erin dug the box of microwaveable popcorn out of his suitcase. Five minutes later found them on the couch, Shirley Temples and a bowl of popcorn next to them, with Erin curled up against John's chest.

The afternoon was as relaxing and cheerful as she could have hoped. John had been entertained by just how invested she'd gotten in the movie. She'd even managed to fit in a short nap before the two of them stopped at a local steakhouse for dinner. When they finally arrived at the stadium for the night's show, Erin split off to ask Stephanie for a ten-minute slot on-air and John headed to the trainers' room to get warmed up. Unsurprisingly, Stephanie was happy to give her some time, and Erin's next stop was a trip to the dressing room.

"Hey, Sherry, I could use your help with an outfit for tonight," she started.

"Ooh, a challenge—my favorite!" Sherry chirped, smiling. "What kind of look are you going for?"

"Something that pretty much says, 'if it weren't for this neck brace and these stupid injuries, I would totally kick your ass right now,'" Erin summed up. "Got anything for that?"

"Oh, _hell_ yes," Sherry replied cheerfully. "I've got a pair of black skinny jeans that you're going to love. Keep your combat boots, and we'll top it off with a band t-shirt and that motorcycle jacket of yours. Let's see—how's the Rolling Stones sound?"

"Got any AC/DC?" Erin asked. Sherry held up a fitted grey t-shirt, and Erin grinned.

* * *

Erin's music began to play, and she made her way down the ramp with John just behind her. Josh handed both of them microphones as they stepped into the ring carefully, and she smiled a thank-you before taking up her usual position at the center of the ring, John at her back.

"So I don't know what it is about me, but apparently, I really piss people off," she began. "Now, I don't mind pissing people off at all. In fact, I rather enjoy it, under the right circumstances. But the only problem is that when I piss people off, they tend to come after me at really inconvenient times. Like, say, when I'm babysitting my friend Rey Mysterio's daughter at a hotel. Now, you'd expect anybody with even the slightest sense of decency to come back and attempt to ambush the currently crippled opponent they'll be facing in a week anyway some other day. Apparently, Jack Swagger lacks even the slightest sense of decency, because I had to hide Alia in the bathroom while he barged into my suite with every intention of beating me into a bloody pulp. And if it weren't for the exceptionally timely arrival of the Hart Dynasty and Trish Stratus—" She paused as the audience cheered. "If it weren't for them, I probably wouldn't be walking right now. But more importantly, there'd be an emotionally scarred little girl dealing with the kind of trauma no kid should have to see. Ever. So once again, we've confirmed that Jack Swagger is an asshole, but this goes beyond that, and I just wanted to let you all know." There was dead silence in the stadium, and Erin bit her lip nervously, her anger replaced by nervousness.

"Was that it?" John asked her. Erin looked over at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Yeah, that was it," she replied, shrugging. "The trainers'll probably yell at me if I don't go rest like I'm supposed to, so I should probably head backstage anyway."

The crowd's silence was broken abruptly as they jeered loudly. Jack Swagger had emerged from backstage, charging down the ramp. John dropped his microphone and positioned Erin behind him protectively. He stepped back just enough to draw Jack in, slamming a punch into his jaw as soon as he ducked into the ring. While Jack, still groggy, struggled to get up, John hustled Erin out of the ring and backed up the ramp, staying between her and Jack the whole way.

"If you want to mess with someone so badly injured they can't even run, let alone fight, you're going to have to go through me," he announced. "And I'm one hell of a pissed-off guy right now, so I'd advise against that." The crowd cheered as John wrapped a protective arm around Erin's waist and the two headed backstage.

* * *

A/N: Huge, huge, HUGE apologies for taking so long to update! I have no possible excuse, so I can only offer that I am incredibly sorry.


	49. Be the Comeback Kid

It had taken much more rest and physical therapy than Erin would have liked, but she arrived in Chicago as ready as she could hope to be. She and John had arrived two days early to train together, but John wisely left her alone for her usual fight-day rituals. She arrived at the stadium extra- early, heading for her locker room but running into Triple H first.

"Hey, Erin!" he called. Erin smiled up at him. "Feeling ready?"

"Mostly, I guess," she shrugged. He fell into step beside her as they continued to walk.

"So this is really your first Hell in a Cell match, isn't it?" Hunter remarked.

"My first intentional one," Erin clarified, laughing slightly. "Any advice, oh Wise Jedi Master?"

"On how to win, or how to survive?" Hunter asked, in all seriousness.

"Hey, if I could survive that beatdown I got from Randy, I can survive Hell in a Cell," Erin replied, her smile fading from her face. "I promise I'm serious, Hunter. I wouldn't joke around when John's in as much danger of injury as I am."

"I know you'll be as safe as you can, considering," Hunter agreed. "Avoid the walls. They're what get you the worst. If the door opens, do everything you can to keep the match from going to the roof. If you break your neck falling from there, I'm going to smack you upside the head as soon as you're healed. You know that Miz and Jack are perfectly willing to do anything underhanded to get the win, so stay sharp. And be ready to hit your aerial moves from anywhere, because you'll need to."

"Anything else?" Erin asked quietly, seriously.

"Just be on top of your game," Hunter reminded her, wrapping a casual arm around her shoulders. "And get your boy to give you a rubdown before you guys go out. You get a better warmup from it than you would if you got it from a trainer. I know it's way better for me when Steph does mine. Gets me all hot and—"

"I do _not_ need to hear about anything you and Steph may or may not do together," Erin said, clapping her hands over her ears. Hunter laughed, grinning down at her. "You're disgusting, you know that?"

"And I'm not in the least bit sorry," Hunter said unrepentantly. Erin smacked his arm.

"You're a prat," she grumbled. "And that's a brilliant idea that I will immediately suggest to John. Bye!"

Hunter nearly fell over from laughing so hard.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're coming to you live from the Windy City," Jerry announced. "We've seen some amazing matches tonight, but it's time for our main event!"

"The question now, really, is if Erin Harris is anywhere near a hundred percent for this match," Michael Cole remarked.

"I was asking just the same question, Mike," Jerry agreed. "Actually, Justin Roberts is backstage now in the athletic training room, waiting to talk to Erin's physical therapist, Dr. Abraham Olkowski . Justin?"

"Thanks, Jerry," Justin said, appearing on the giant screen above the ramp. "I'm here with Dr. Abraham Olkowski, who's been working with Erin ever since the infamous Hell in a Cell match between Randy Orton and John Cena. Dr. Olkowski, what can you tell us about Erin's condition?"

"Well, Erin somehow avoided any kind of cervical fracture, which was nothing short of miraculous," Abe began. "But she did violently separate the C3 and C4 vertebrae in her neck, and that resulted in a weakened vertebral column in that area as well as several pulled and strained muscles. She was in what we call a hard brace for a week, and she began training again this week in a soft brace, or foam cast. She's been cleared to wrestle, but only just. We told her no overhead presses and nothing aerial."

"What's the likelihood of Erin following that advice?" Justin asked, curious.

"Slim to none," Abe admitted, resigned. "However, she risks cervical fracture, spinal cord dislocation, even permanent paralysis if she competes tonight in this state."

"Thank you, Dr. Olkowski," Justin said, subdued. "Guys, back to you." Jerry and Michael both looked horror-struck, and Jerry shook his head.

"It sounds like Erin shouldn't even be competing tonight," Jerry commented, worried.

"And when have I ever listened to anyone who tells me what I shouldn't do?" Erin asked, appearing at the top of the ramp, arms crossed, microphone in hand. She still wore her soft brace, but she was in ring gear and looked ready to go. "In fact, I seem to have missed the day in school where they taught that skill, because I am fully prepared to not only compete tonight but win. Jack Swagger's attack shows only that he's scared to face me. And that—that honestly puts a bit of a smile on my face." She made her way down to the ring slowly, rolling out her neck slightly within the confines of her brace. She ran a casual hand over the metal of the cage, ducking inside easily. "So if you guys don't mind, I'd like to get this match started. Do you think I could give an introduction to my tag team partner?" The crowd roared, and Erin grinned.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to give an introduction to the man who needs no introduction," Erin began. The crowd roared in approval, and Erin waited until they quieted to go on. "He's the world's toughest chain-gang soldier, and a hero with a heart of gold. He's never said 'I Quit' and he never will. He's not invincible, but he fights like he is; he's a warrior through and through. He's the knight in dirty, beat-up armor—ladies and gentlemen, the WWE Champion is here: John Cena!"

John came down the ramp to thunderous applause, and Erin joined in with a wolf-whistle of her own. He jumped into the ring, pulling Erin in and kissing her soundly. Erin blushed, hiding a smile. "So after an introduction like that, I really can't compete, but I should at least try, right?" John said, and the crowd cheered. He grinned. "Alright, let me give it a shot." Erin looked at him expectantly, half-smiling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a girl who's stronger than Superman and smaller than Mighty Mouse!" he began, and Erin laughed. John winked at her. "Navy SEALs got nothing on her toughness and no daredevil comes _near_ her level of reckless; she's bigger than her body gives her credit for; she never backs down, never says "can't", and never lets injustice go unpunished. So don't tread on her, 'cause she's the gorgeous G.I. Jane, the World Heavyweight Champion Erin Harris!"

"So are you trying to introduce the next contenders as well?" Matt Striker asked, watching her.

"Do I get to insult them?" Erin asked cheekily.

"Probably not," Matt said honestly. Erin shrugged.

"Well, they're all yours then," she replied. She turned her back to the ramp, stripping off her t-shirt and tossing it into the crowd. Off came her dog tags, and she handed them to the ring attendant.

"Introducing the challengers: the team of Jack Swagger and the Miz!" Matt Striker announced.

As they came down to the ring, he went on, "This match will be a double championship defense match. Should either champion be pinned or submit, their title will go to the challenger who pins them and their partner's title will go to the other challenger."

"Mike, is it just me, or do the odds seem to be stacked against John and Erin?" Jerry commented. Erin looked over, nodding her head theatrically. Jerry laughed in spite of himself, and Erin grinned. "And it looks like Erin and Jack will be the first to face off."

With an ominous clank, the door of the cage was padlocked shut, and Erin vaulted into the ring, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waited for the bell to ring. When it did, she struck first, spearing Jack before he could move. She sat on his chest, keeping him pinned down as she drove blow after blow into his head, releasing weeks of pent-up anger. She rolled off of him at the referee's command, bouncing on the balls of her feet as he rose slowly. He lunged at her, but Erin ducked under his swing, slamming a kick into his hamstring. He managed to catch her leg as she pulled back, throwing her off-balance long enough that he could Irish whip her into the corner. Erin bit back a gasp of pain as her neck hit the corner post, and Jack hit her with a running knee lift that sent her to the mats.

She brought her legs up as he charged, driving both feet into his chest and sending him crashing over the ropes and into the wall of the steel cage. The crowd cheered as Erin made it back to her feet, vaulting over the ropes and hitting a Whisper in the Winds off the steel cage. Jack hit the ground hard, and Erin used the cage itself, climbing up and perching, Spiderman-like, in the corner, waiting for him to rise. When he did, she launched herself at him, going for a modified G.I. Jane. The height of her jump worked against her, though, and he was able to move out of the way. She hit the steel cage hard, feeling the impact in every inch of her body, and Jack rolled her into the ring.

When he lunged for the pin, though, she swept her leg up and around, nailing him in the temple and sending him staggering away. He fell back into his corner, and Mike tagged himself in on Jack's back. Erin was ready for him as he came through the ropes, grabbing his wrist to flip him over one hip. She followed it up with a 180o spun flare that she turned into a leg drop across his ribcage. As successful as it was, the landing still jarred her neck. Mike made it back to his feet, standing between her and her corner, and she feinted left, drawing him in. As he lunged at her, she took a running start and flipped over him, tagging John in.

"There's the tag, and the Champ is here!" Jerry announced. Erin couldn't help but smile, watching as John nailed Mike with a running clothesline, then another. His running bulldog was so forceful that Mike was sent flying across the ring. He scrabbled frantically, trying to tag Jack in, but John grabbed his ankle, dragging him back and into the STF. Jack reached through the ropes, grabbing Mike's leg to pull him towards the ropes.

"Oh hell, no," Erin growled, flying across the ring and grabbing the second and third ropes, swinging between them to drive her feet into Jack's shoulder, sending him crashing into the steel cage. She bounced onto the top rope, hitting him with an elevated standing moonsault for good measure before returning to her corner at the referee's command. Jack rose slowly but steadily, and his battle-weary tag-team partner tagged him in. John didn't wait for Jack to enter the ring, nailing him with a dropkick that sent him back into the steel cage wall once more.

"And that interference by Jack Swagger thwarted by John's partner—partner in more than one sense of the word," Michael remarked. "Jerry, she may not be a Diva, but I think we'd all agree that she's still smart, sexy, and powerful." Jerry glanced over at his fellow commentator, the expression on his face somewhere between amusement and chagrin.

"Could you talk about the damn match, please?" Erin called, keeping her eyes on John as he hauled Jack into a vertical suplex, dropping him into the center of the ring.

"And that's why she's my favorite," Jerry said promptly. John waved his hand in front of his face, as the crowd bellowed "You can't see me!" along with him. "There's Cena with the Five-Knuckle Shuffle—and he nails it!" John glanced back at Erin, who was bouncing eagerly in the corner, and smiled. He tagged her in quickly, and Erin vaulted into the ring, standing over Jack's prone form and going for a standing shooting star press. Jack rolled out of the way, but she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye, landing on her forearms. She was caught by surprise as Jack dropped onto her back, pinning her down as he locked his hands under her chin and pulled back with all his strength.

"And it looks like Swagger is going for an inverted facelock—Mike, I don't think Erin's neck can handle that kind of stress!" Jerry commented. Erin was shaking with effort it took not to cry out in pain, straining with every bit of strength to break free. John waved the crowd to their feet, watching Erin with worry in his eyes.

"Tap out," Jack hissed, just loud enough for her to hear. Erin shook her head stubbornly, and he hauled back even harder. She screamed as her head was wrenched back, pain radiating down her spine. She scrabbled at Jack's arm, but he didn't budge. After what felt like an eternity, he released the hold, throwing her into the ropes. She bounced off limply and hit the mats hard, multicolored spots exploding in front of her eyes from the pain.

"Get to the ropes!" John bellowed. Erin heard him only dimly, and managed to grab the ropes with one hand and drag herself into the corner, hauling herself to her feet. Her neck was screaming in pain, but she had enough presence of mind to slip between the ropes and out of the ring, sending Jack crashing into the corner. She slammed a kick into his temple, still clutching her neck, and grabbed the top rope to flip him out of the ring. When he staggered to his feet, she nailed him with a roundhouse kick that slammed him into the unforgiving steel of the cage. She elbow-dropped him for good measure, going for the pin, but Jack kicked out at two and a half. Erin crawled away frantically as he rose, reaching out as far as she could for John's outstretched hand. Jack caught her ankle, hauling her off the ground with the force of his ankle lock. Erin twisted in his grip, managing to drive her other heel into his jaw. He dropped her immediately, and she rolled away, still clutching her neck. John reached out for her, tagging himself in on her shoulder as she fell towards him. He blasted into action, hitting Jack with a flying shoulder block that slammed him into the steel floor. When Jack finally made it to his feet, John hauled him into the Attitude Adjustment.

"AA! AA!" Michael Cole shouted. Even in her pain, Erin rolled her eyes. John threw Jack up and over the ropes, sliding back into the ring. He stood tall, turning to salute Erin before playing it up for the crowd.

"You can't see me!" they chanted along with him, as John landed the five-knuckle shuffle once more, dropping and locking in the STF. Predictably, Miz rushed into the ring, but Erin cut him off, mustering enough strength to spear him into the ropes as John turned the weary Jack Swagger onto his back for the pin.

"One, two, three—ring that bell!" the referee ordered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners—and still WWE and World Heavyweight Champion, respectively—John Cena and Erin Harris!" Justin announced. Erin ducked into the ring, making her way over to John slowly. The referee raised her arm far more carefully and far less energetically than he did John's, and she still held onto her neck with her free hand.

"Need to see the doctors?" John asked quietly.

"I'm running on an adrenaline high right now, but I'll need them as soon as we're backstage," Erin admitted, accepting her title belt from the ring attendant. "But as for right now—" She grabbed a microphone, looking straight at Jack. "I told you not to tread on me, Swagger." John laughed, wrapping a protective arm around her waist as the referees unlocked the door, helping her out of the cage and up the ramp.

By the time they reached the locker room, John was supporting almost all of Erin's bodyweight.

"My locker room—I need my hard brace," she managed, stopping to hold her neck. "John, I can't walk any further without it." John hastily sat her down against the wall, pushing through several crew members to reach her locker room, digging through her bag and emerging with the hard brace and her Vicodin. Erin had managed to unstrap her soft brace and held her neck still with just her bare hands, but John quickly strapped her hard brace into place, popping open her water bottle and handing over her pill. Erin collapsed against the wall, holding her breath for a moment until her head cleared. "Alright. I think I can move now. Let's go see Dr. Porcelan and Abe." John helped her up wordlessly, and Erin clutched his arm tightly despite the brace and the Vicodin as they made their way down the hall.

"We've got you a table set up already—we've been expecting you," Abe called, and Erin managed a small smile. "I'm not even going to bother lecturing you, because you won't feel guilty and you're probably in enough pain anyway."

"Yup," Erin said unrepentantly, sliding onto the table with a groan.

"You already took Vicodin?" Abe asked, and she nodded. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Erin said shortly. "Abe, John pretty much had to carry me back here. I couldn't walk without it hurting."

"Well, no matter what I find, you're taking at least two weeks off. A month, if I can convince Steph," Abe informed her. "So I hear you're off the wagon—as far as straight-edge goes, I mean." Erin looked down, shaking her head.

"I guess I'm not as indestructible as I thought I was," she said quietly. "I just—I wanted to be strong enough to not have to take them."

"Sunshine, if you'd hit your neck much harder, you would have been internally decapitated. And yes, that's a medical term," Abe told her sternly. "If you hadn't agreed to, I would have force-fed you that Vicodin."

"Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it," Erin told him stubbornly. John bent to kiss her temple, shaking his head as he stood up.

"Not in the least, love," he promised her. "Not in the least."

* * *

A/N: Here's your next one! Read and review, as ever (though clearly, I have no right to demand such courtesy from y'all, considering how long I took to update. Thus the lack of my typical "read and review" request at the end of last chapter.)

Some quick housekeeping:

1. No, I won't be catching up to current Raw/Smackdown, I'm sticking with the semi-alternative timeline I've got going because I'm just too far behind the current stuff at this point. Also, I like being able to make the rules and not have to react to what's going on in the real WWE. lol.

2. At some point, Nexus will pop up. But not the original Nexus, something more similar to New Nexus. Except since it's the only version of the Nexus I have, I won't actually be called "New Nexus". Hope that's not too confusing!


	50. Say What You Mean to Say

Erin slept in her own bed that night, her neck firmly braced inside of a hard collar once more. Unsurprisingly, she had a hard time sleeping, and was still incredibly tired when John knocked at her door the next morning.

"I left you a card key under the doormat," she called sleepily, and John chuckled, opening the door with it.

"I brought you breakfast," he replied, holding up a tray. Erin smiled drowsily, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I thought you might be feeling a little nauseous after those hits and the Vicodin, so I stuck to oatmeal and toast for you. But I did bring tea, so I hope that helps."

"Mmm…you're the best, Superman," Erin mumbled, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

"Still calling me Superman?" John asked, amused, taking the seat next to her.

"Truth, justice, and the American way," she told him. "That's what you stand for. And you've got the muscles for it."

"Alright, G.I. Jane," John teased, passing her food over. "How're you feeling, by the way?"

"Exhausted, hungry, and cranky," Erin said honestly. "I'm not a huge fan of having to take time off, but at least I'll get a chance to sleep."

"Well, you won't be alone—I haven't used more than a week or two of vacation time in the past few years, so I convinced Steph to give me three weeks off, which is what they're giving you," he said, and Erin smiled.

"You're the best," she told him quietly. They were quiet for some time, Erin leaning against John's shoulder.

"Well, since it seems we both find ourselves with some vacation time, I have an offer for you," John started, hesitant.

"What's that?" Erin asked.

"Come home with me for Thanksgiving," John said quietly. Erin smiled, blushing.

"Alright, then," she agreed, almost shyly. "I can't believe this'll be the first time I'm at your house."

"And we can do dinner at my parents, so we don't even have to cook," John said cheekily. "Plus, my whole family wants to meet you." Erin's eyes widened, and she looked more than a little nervous at the prospect.

"Whole family?" she managed. John chuckled, holding her close.

"Relax, love," he rumbled. "Just my parents and my brothers and their girlfriends. Are you telling me that taking on Randy Orton doesn't make you so much as blink, but you're scared of meeting my family?"

"I'm not scared," Erin protested, defensive. "I'm—apprehensive."

"Apprehensive," John repeated.

"Apprehensive," Erin confirmed. "I can't remember the last time I met someone's family. Other than fans."

"Haven't you stayed with Beth and Nat and—oh, I don't know, half of the Raw and Smackdown rosters at one point or another?" John asked, curious. Erin nodded agreeably.

"But the only family I've met is Rey's," she replied. "I don't—I don't do well with families. Never had a good one to start with." John looked down at her.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked gently. "You never said anything while we were with your mom, and I didn't want to ask in case it upset you." Erin snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest.

"Not much to talk about," she said, trying to sound casual, but John could feel the tension in every muscle of her body. "Dad was an angry drunk. He drank whenever he wasn't working, and he couldn't hold a job because he was always drunk. Mom worked at a factory down the road—night shift—and did housecleaning for the upper crust during the day. My brother Aiden got mixed in with a bad crowd. Jail straightened him out, then he went Marines. He died in Iraq; I was thirteen. I got out of there at 18 and never looked back."

John rested his lips on her forehead, smoothing her hair gently.

"My family is going to love you," he said firmly. "You're funny, and sweet, and you can hold your own against the worst in the WWE. I'm telling you, they're going to love you." Erin managed a small smile.

"Alright," she whispered. "But—do you think you could pick me up from my mom's? If I'm coming with you for Thanksgiving, I'm baking something, and that requires my mom's recipes."

"You don't have to bring—" John started.

"I do so," Erin informed him stubbornly. "Besides, Mama likes helping me bake. It's a mother-daughter thing."

"I love it when you get all commanding," he told her, chuckling. "It's sexy." Erin smiled wickedly.

"Is that so?" she commented, shifting so that she straddled his lap, leaning down to kiss him teasingly before slipping out of his grasp, glancing over her shoulder as she pulled a bikini from her closet. "Hot tub. Five minutes. And that's an order."

The slightest of smirks creased John's face as he replied, "Yes, ma'am!"

Erin left the next morning for her mother's, reassuring John with a phone call every hour to let him know that no, her neck did not hurt any worse than before, and yes, she was almost there. Rachel only laughed upon hearing the story, remarking that she found John's care "adorable" before ushering her daughter into the kitchen.

And that was how John found them a week later, when he knocked politely at the door. Rachel peered around the corner, smiling as she saw who it was.

"It's unlocked!" she called. "Come on in, John."

"Hey, Rachel," John called back, closing the door behind him. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm doing just swell, sweetheart," Rachel said, pulling something out of the fridge. "Erin's right upstairs—go ahead up." John smiled, tipping his hat to her as he ducked out of the kitchen, tip-toeing upstairs to surprise Erin. He could see her through the door, wearing the soft brace once more. Her dress was sandwashed silk charmeuse, with a swirling ivory-and-brown print and a smocked bustline. Long, loose sleeves reached to her wrists, and a darker print marked the hemline.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. Erin let out a soft gasp of surprise, a smile spreading across her face as she realized who it was.

"I missed you," she told him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him sweetly before stepping back. John frowned, and she paused. "What's wrong?" John didn't bother answering, pulling her close to him once more and kissing her soundly. Erin laughed, understanding.

"Ready to go?" John asked. Erin grabbed a brush, pulling her hair back into a low, sleek ponytail.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied. John smiled, stepping behind her to massage her shoulders.

"I promise my family doesn't bite," he said teasingly. "And they're going to love you. How could they not?"

"I just don't have the best track record with families," Erin laughed nervously. John turned her so that she faced him, taking both hands and pulling her close.

"You're sweet, funny, and absolutely perfect," he informed her quietly. "My family will love you. Don't worry." Erin smiled, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"What car are we taking?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Well, since I brought back the Hemi Charger last time I went home, I thought we'd take that," John replied.

"Sounds good to me," Erin agreed. "Let me just grab the tart, and then I'll be ready. And I'm sure my mom will want to say hi. And I really hope the tart turned out alright, because I messed up the first one, and—"

"If you made it, I'm sure it's delicious," John assured her. "What's in it?"

"Crushed pecans, brown sugar, and chocolate syrup for the crust, then chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, and Bailey's Irish cream for the filling, with caramel drizzle and pecan sprinkles on top," Erin ticked off. John looked as though he were about to start drooling, and Erin laughed, pulling out a miniature tart the size of her palm. "I made one for you to test-taste."

"You're amazing," John said, taking the tart eagerly. "Like I said—my family is going to love you." He took a bite of the tart, and his eyes widened. "Let me correct that: my family may well ask me to propose to you after tasting this." Erin blushed, and John laughed. "Nice to see you again, Rachel."

"You stop on by anytime, John—you're always welcome here," Rachel told him. "Now, you two hurry up and skedaddle out of here. The sooner you go, the sooner I can head over to the church. I'm helping with the Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless."

"You're an inspiration to us all," John told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Rachel turned the same shade of red Erin did when embarrassed, he noticed, as Erin hugged her mother goodbye and followed him out the door. "And I promise, you're going to love my family, too," he told her, holding open the door to the car. "Ready to meet them?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Erin said, taking her seat carefully. "So your brothers are Dan, Matt, Sean, and Steve, right?"

"I always knew you had a good memory," John replied, laughing, as the engine roared to life. "It won't be a long trip. I guess I'm too much of a homebody to live too far away from my family."

"That's really sweet," Erin said, smiling. "How close is close?"

"About 20 minutes," John admitted. "Sean and Steve still live at home, Dan and his girlfriend live in Philly, and Matt and his wife are about half an hour away from my parents in the other direction."

"And what are their names—the girlfriend and the wife?" Erin asked, trying to keep everyone straight."

"Tori is Dan's girlfriend, and Elizabeth is Matt's wife, but relax," John chuckled. "You don't have to know everybody's names. It's fine. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"A little tired—I didn't get much sleep last night," she admitted.

"You should nap, then—we've got a plenty long trip," John told her. Erin smiled gratefully, settling more comfortably into her seat as she closed her eyes.

It seemed like only moments before John was tapping her shoulder gently to wake her, but she knew the trip had taken several hours.

"Didn't want to shake you—thought it might make your neck hurt," he explained. "Feeling any better?"

"Just nervous," Erin replied, stretching carefully.

"You've got nothing to be nervous about," John assured her.

"I just like being prepared," Erin said, blushing, as they pulled into the driveway.

"You've got the most amazing chocolate tart I've ever tasted. That's more than prepared enough," John informed her. "Now, come on. My mom can't wait to meet you." Erin got out of the car slowly, carrying the tart in both hands. John opened the door to the house, calling out as they entered. "Ma! We're here!"

"Welcome home!" John's mother called, bustling out of the kitchen. She was a short, plump woman with the same bright blue eyes as John, and she hugged her son tightly. "Erin, it's such a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Karen." Erin smiled, her nervousness beginning to melt away.

"My family doesn't have any secret recipes, but I just couldn't resist bringing this," Erin said, handing over the tart. "Chocolate with pecans and caramel—how could it go wrong?"

"I like the way you think," Karen informed her, and Erin giggled. "Come on in. John can do the introductions." Erin followed John to the living room, twining her fingers through his. John's brothers all sat on the couch, next to their father, and two girls sat with them.

"Erin, these are my brothers—Matt, Dan, Sean, and Steve," John said by way of introduction. "That's my dad, Bill, Dan's girlfriend, Tori, and Matt's wife, Elizabeth. Guys, this is Erin Harris, my girlfriend."

"Oh, good—someone improving the girl-to-guy ratio," Elizabeth called, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Erin."

"Nice to meet you too," Erin said, still somewhat shy.

"Hey—while we're waiting, anybody want to play an icebreaker?" Matt asked.

"Charades?" Tori suggested. "Maybe guys versus girls?"

"But that really wouldn't be fair at all," Dan protested.

"So you're too scared we'll kick your butts?" Erin teased. John snickered, and Erin narrowed her eyes, though she smiled. "Chicken…"

"I'm in," Elizabeth agreed, eyes sparkling mischievously. "I think you're right, Erin. I think the boys really are too chicken to play us."

"Oh, it's on," Matt informed them, plopping onto the loveseat. "It's on like Donkey Kong."

"You're going down, Charlie Brown," Erin threw back.

"Well, you're going to—going to—crap, I'm out of comebacks," Matt muttered.

"The first victory is ours!" Elizabeth crowed. "Alright. Because we're feeling merciful, we'll let you go first. First to five correct guesses?"

"It's a deal," John agreed, pulling the game out from the shelves. "What do we want the category to be?"

"Movie names?" Dan suggested, and they all nodded. "Alright. I'll go first." He drew his card, shaking his head, and stood up. The girls all stifled giggles, and the guys all stared, puzzled, as he mimed firing a gun, made a strange face while pointing and laughing, and flapped his arms.

"Do it again," Sean asked, utterly confused. Dan performed the same motion once more.

"Shooting a laughing…flying…thing?" Matt sounded out, and Erin's eyes widened.

"To Kill a Mockingbird!" she called. Dan swore, and the girls all cheered. "First point to us!"

"How did you get to kill a mockingbird out of that?" John demanded, bewildered.

"He was shooting, and then mocking, and imitating a bird," Erin said defensively. "That, and that's one of my favorite books of all time. My turn!" She drew a card from the deck, laughing. "Alright, here goes." She glanced around, catching sight of a Wrestlemania poster on the wall, pointing first to John, then to Randy's picture, then to CM Punk's picture. When no one said anything, she pointed to John again, making a halo over her head with her hands. She then pointed to Randy's picture, making devil horns over her head, then screwed up her face into the strangest expression she could manage.

"I have no id—"Matt started.

"The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly!" Elizabeth interrupted. Erin grinned, pointing to her. The guys groaned, shaking their heads, and Elizabeth jumped up to hug her. "Damn, girl, we are good at this!"

"Guys, they're crushing us," Steve complained as Elizabeth drew her card, raising her eyebrows.

"Ok, girls, get ready," she warned. She raised both arms, forming an X with her forearms three times.

"Triple X!" Sean bellowed immediately. Elizabeth frowned as Sean performed a victory dance.

"It's okay," Tori consoled her. "We clearly watch only quality movies."

"Good point," Elizabeth agreed, cheering up immediately. "Besides, I'm sure we'll get the next one."

"Let's do it," Erin grinned. John stuck his tongue out at them as Sean drew his card, wrinkling his nose. As they watched, he drew an imaginary gun, firing a bullet. He then jumped into the path of the bullet, falling down in an overdramatic death scene. He then rose, pointing to the girls, and then mimed writing something.

"The girls wrote your death?" Sean asked.

"Ghost Writer!" John tried.

"Murder, She Wrote," Karen called, joining them. "And I'm on the girls' team, so that's three points to your one." She glanced down at the girls, smiling. "I do love my Angela Lansbury."

"Glad to have you aboard, Mrs. C," Tori said breezily. "It's your turn to act one out for us, now." Karen laughed as she drew her card.

"Alright," she said, taking up a boxer's stance. "Here I go." She threw several fake punches.

"Boxing!" Matt called.

"Fighting!" Erin offered. Karen tapped her nose before picking up a log of wood from the shelves near the fire, hitting it on the ground like a club. "Fighting, beating, clubbing—Fight Club!" Karen laughed, nodding.

"You got it," she replied. "One more and we win, boys!"

"Wait, wait, wait," Tori called, grinning wickedly. "I want to up the ante—if we win, the boys have to do all the cleaning up. If we lose, we'll do it."

"I don't know," Dan said hesitantly.

"Oh, come on, you wuss," Sean said, rolling his eyes. "We can make an epic comeback easy. It's a bet. Go ahead, Erin." Erin grinned as she drew her card, taking up a runner's stance. She pumped her arms rapidly, and Elizabeth smiled.

"Fast!" she called, and Erin tapped her nose. She crossed her arms over her chest and made the angriest face she could.

"Too easy—The Fast and The Furious," John called, and Erin stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on, G.I. Jane. I know it's your favorite movie."

"I should be mad, but I'm too happy that you remembered," Erin said, smiling even as she blushed.

"Way to make the rest of us look bad," Dan grumbled under his breath. John laughed, catching Erin's wrist as she went to sit down and kissing her quickly.

"For luck," he explained. Erin laughed softly as she took her seat. John held up two fingers, forming a V, before pointing to Erin, then to Randy's picture. When no one spoke, he repeated the motion, then again.

"V…enemy…revenge…grudge…" Elizabeth tried.

"V for Vendetta!" Tori and Erin yelled at the exact same time, jumping up as John nodded resignedly. Karen and Elizabeth bounced to their feet, joining the two.

"Girls, you just got us out of the post-Thanksgiving cleanup!" Karen cheered. The guys groaned, but the girls just laughed. "And I believe I hear the timer for the turkey, so why don't you all take a dish out to the table while Bill carves it?"

"I'll get the potatoes," John volunteered immediately.

"Dibs on the cranberry sauce," Matt called.

"You just want to put it as close to you as possible," Tori accused.

"I resent that implication!" Matt protested. "Wait. I do just want it as close as possible. Never mind." Erin chuckled as Karen handed her a basket of rolls before pushing the gravy boat into Tori's hands.

"The drinks are already out there, so I'll grab the stuffing," Elizabeth offered.

"If Steve will take the green beans, I'll take the corn," Sean added. "Is that everything?"

"That's it," Karen replied, beaming. "Thank you."

"You made all of this—the least we can do is set the table!" Tori remarked, surprised.

"You might be altruistic, but I'm just helping because if we bring it out, I get to eat faster," Sean informed her, laughing.

"I'm not surprised in the least," Bill remarked, shaking his head. "We'll be out in a minute, boys." Erin helped John and his brothers set the table, taking a seat as John pulled one out for her.

"Now, we've got a tradition in our family, Erin," Karen told her, taking her seat. Her husband followed behind her, bearing a still-steaming turkey on a platter that he set down at the center of the table. "Before we start eating, we go around the table and say what we're thankful for, so we're hoping you'll join us in that."

"Of course!" Erin said cheerfully, and Karen smiled.

"I'll get us started, then—I'm thankful for my wonderful husband, Bill, our incredible sons, and their equally incredible better halves," Karen listed, eliciting smiles from Tori and Elizabeth.

"Although my wife stole the best ones, I'm also thankful for our children—and for family in every way, shape, and form," Bill said.

"I'm thankful for my beautiful wife, Liz," Matt said, leaning over to steal a kiss from Elizabeth before adding cheekily, "And I'm thankful for moms who love to cook." Karen tsked at him, though she was smiling.

"I'm every bit as thankful for my wise-cracking husband, and this incredible family that I married into," Elizabeth laughed.

"Well, I don't have a girlfriend to be thankful for, but I'm thankful for my crazy brothers and the wonderful family that lets me live at home while I get back on my feet," Sean said. Next to him, Steve grinned.

"I'm thankful for a wonderful family that lets me live at home, and a steadily improving housing market," he quipped. Bill chuckled.

"Well, I'm thankful for my girlfriend, as well as for all the future wrestlers who want to be trained by a Cena," Dan said.

"And I'm thankful for my sometimes insane, always loving boyfriend," Tori told him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "John, I think it's your turn."

"I'm thankful for my family, my health, and my career," John said. He took a deep breath, and Erin glanced at him, puzzled. John looked straight at her, looking surprisingly nervous. "And I'm thankful for you, Erin Brigid Fionna Harris, because I am truly, madly, deeply, and irrevocably in love with you." The room was completely silent as John's family looked at him. John had eyes only for Erin, though, and Erin's eyes were wide and bright with tears. "I guess—I guess I'm trying to say I love you." The silence went unbroken until Erin took a deep breath.

"It's my turn to say what I'm thankful for, right?" she said quietly. "I'm thankful for my health, my career, my friends, and to be here—and I'm thankful for John Felix Anthony Cena, because I love you too." John's nervousness was gone as soon as he heard the words, and Erin smiled up at him. John leaned over and kissed her softly, one hand cupping her cheek. Dan wolf-whistled obnoxiously, and Erin blushed, sinking back in her seat.

"If you two get any more adorable, I'm going to—" Sean started. Karen cleared her throat loudly, and Sean rolled his eyes. "Going to die of how sickeningly sweet it is. Happy, Ma?" John chuckled, kissing Erin once more.

"Well, _I'm_ happy," he announced, and Erin looked every bit as happy.

"Well, hear, hear!" Karen cheered, and relaxed chatter rose around the table as the first plates were passed.

* * *

A/N: IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE! *ahem* Seemed the perfect time for a Despicable Me reference. Anywho, we are rapidly nearing the end of the chapters I have pre-written (only four of them to go), so we will soon be diving headlong into the unknown! Read and review, please.


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